Beatles Fan Stories

[Jai Guru Deva]

A bittersweet story of a girl named Georgeanna who got to meet the Beatles. The sweet part is a rare behind the scenes glimpse at the Beatles, the bitter part has to do with Mal Evans.
www.ourbrowncounty.com/0100s1.htm

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My Life: Georgeanna's Unforgettable Tale
by Bill Weaver

1965. America is in the grip of Beatlemania and the four lads from Liverpool are in New York City beginning a tour of the United States. In Indianapolis, teenage girls have gathered to celebrate.
"We were having a birthday party," begins Georgeanna Slaybaugh. A gifted storyteller, Georgeanna keeps the room enthralled for nearly an hour with her tale.

"It was an overnight party and we were giggling and screaming, listening to the radio with all our Beatles stuff. They were staying at the Warwick Hotel and one of the girls dared me to make a phone call.

"I said, `My mom's going to kill me if I make a long distance phone call,' but I went ahead. The dare and the fun of the evening prevailed. I called the hotel operator and said, `Can I speak with Paul McCartney?'" Unexpectantly, they put the call through.

The phone was answered by a British voice. "I remember saying, `Is this John?' And he said `What of it, luv?' Then another voice came on the line. It was Mal Evans.

"Mal Evans had been bouncer at the Cavern Club in Liverpool. He was now the Beatles' road manager. He and Neil Aspinall handled all their equipment."

They were soon chatting like old friends. He was sorry that she couldn't talk to Paul but suggested she call back the next afternoon.

"I remember saying, `Do you just talk to anybody that comes through?' He said, `No, obviously not,' but that I seemed like a nice girl. He enjoyed talking to me.

"We couldn't sleep the rest of the night.

"Now it's Sunday morning. My parents are up and I tell them, `Mom, I made a long distance phone call to New York last night. I got to talk to one of the Beatles!'

"She's like, `Yeah, right!'

"`No, we really did make a phone call and spoke to John Lennon! Please, please, please, can I make another call, please?' I'm just begging her. And she said, `Sure.'

"At two o'clock I'm beside myself. I call the hotel and I ask to speak to Malcolm Evans. I get Mal on the line and in the middle of the conversation he says, `Are you going to see the Boys anywhere?' I said, `Yes, we have tickets to Chicago.' He said, `Why don't you stop by and see us after the show?'

"`Do you do this everywhere you go?' Even at my age I realized that it could be a real scary thing to do.

"He said, `We seldom ever get a chance to talk with a true American. It's always celebrities.'"

After attending the concert, "Believe it or not we were just going to drive home. But we're also saying, `We'll really regret it if we don't try.' It's the biggest mob thing in the world, thousands of screaming people and police. The lobby was jam packed with people.

"I go over to the desk, it takes forever to wade through all the people, and I said `Do you have a message for Georgeanna Lewis?' He handed me a piece of paper!

"When I call that number, unmistakably it's Paul McCartney and, it was like—If I die right now, it's okay. I've talked to Paul McCartney.

"I tried to act very calm, `May I speak to Malcom Evans.' He said, `Just a minute.'

"Mal comes on and says, `You made it! I'll come down and get you.'

"Not too long after that the elevator doors open and here was this huge, blond, good looking guy. He goes, `Come on!' I'm really about as giddy and knocked out as I could possible be and I said to Mom and Lucy and Patty, `We're going upstairs!'

"Put yourself in that context. The world is full of Beatlemania and you're a 16 year old nobody from Indianapolis and you're standing on the 6th floor of the Sahara Inn, and George Harrison is coming out a room walking towards you. To this day I can remember the sound of flip-flops because he was wearing thongs and they were flip-flopping as he walked. I said `Hello, George' and he said `Ello.' It was too much.

"It was just crazy. Music, party, laughing, joking, everything going on, everything crazy, and I look down and John Lennon is half out of the doorway, he's got a microphone and he's recording.

"We're all trailing behind Mal and a couple of security people. A door is open to one room as we go by and Ringo was walking up and down with his hands clenched and he's got on polka dot pajamas. My Mom is just frozen.

"We finally get down to the end room and Mal asked if we'd like something to drink. Now I'm a Beatles fan and I know what they like to drink so I look at him, all grown up, and say, `I'll have a scotch and coke.' I'd never drank in my life. I look over at my Mom and she's got this look like . . .

"Mal said at one point, `Which one of the Boys is your favorite?'

"Paul, I just think he's the cute as can be." We talked about their fan clubs, how big they were all across the world and I said, `Do you have a fan club?' He started laughing real hard. And I said, `Well you should!'

"I didn't care if anything else happened. I was happy. Mal said, `I'll be right back.' I sat down on the bed as the door opened and just like a flash, in comes Paul McCartney. The first thing he says is `Which one of you birds is starting a fan club for Mal?' And he started laughing. I looked around and said `Me?' And he said, `That is great. Mal, this is what you need.'

"I'm thinking, `This is Paul McCartney! He is so calm and laid back.

"He looked over at my Mom and stood up like a gentleman and said `Well, hullo, Mum.' He put out his hand and she shook it. He said, `How are you?' She goes, `You're cute but I like Ringo better.' He just about fell on the floor. He kept laughing and laughing.

"So he goes around and he made drinks for everybody. I told him that they were not what I'd expected because they were so funny and casual and polite.

"We stayed on, drinking cokes and laughing and talking. We'd go out in the hallway and there'd be John still doing his slithering snake bit. By now it's 4 or 5 o'clock in the morning."

Before leaving she and Mal exchanged addresses. "I thought, `That's not going to amount to anything.' But that Christmas I got a card from him, a really cute drawing. So I tried writing him. We carried on a correspondence for quite some time."

The next year Mal arranged to meet Georgeanna and her mother before the Beatles' concert in Cincinnati. He greeted them warmly, saying, "It's really good to see friends who are really friends!"

"We get to the hotel and Mal and I went upstairs. We were discussing the Beatles music, looking around this room, a beautiful suite, but he was apologizing that it looked a mess.

"`I haven't had a chance to get the Boys' things taken care of. You can't send things to the laundry, it never comes back. And I've got a press conference.'

"I said, `I'll take care of it.' And he said, `No, I hate to ask you to do this.' I said, `Mal, it's okay. Just tell me what you need.'

"This is another level," Georgeanna remembers thinking to herself. "I see all the underwear and all the dirty socks. They're pretty much all in the bags where they're supposed to be but the rest had to be put away. I opened the closet and there was four of everything. The Shea Stadium suits. The suits they wore to the concert. All lined up with their names on the hangers, shirts, everything they needed. Down to the boots, stacked up and ready to go.

"I thought, `I'm still a fan!' so I went through the pockets. And the only thing was that John had some Juicy Fruit gum. I'm looking at it like, `He'll never miss it.' But then again I thought, `It's just chewing gum and you've been so good so far. Don't do it.' So I stuck it back in his pocket.

"We went to the concert and had a great time. After we got home Mal and I still wrote letters."

"Now I'm getting older, I've fallen in love with Jack, I take longer and longer between letters. One day I'm thinking, `Dang I need to get a hold of Mal.' It'd been several years since we talked. I wondered how I could find his address.

So I thought that I'd go to a bookstore and get a book on the Beatles. I'm looking in the back and that's how I found out that he'd been shot to death."

Apparently Evans, depressed and fighting alcohol addiction after the breakup of the Beatles and of his marriage, had foolishly pointed an unloaded shotgun at two Los Angeles Police Officers. They shot him when he refused to put the gun down.

"I cried so hard I could hardly get back to work. I called my Mom and she asked, `What's wrong?'

"All I could say was, `How could I not have known that Mal was dead?'

Georgeanna Lewis married Jack Slaybaugh in 1973. "We both worked for the State Police. I had always been a city girl. It never occurred to me to live anywhere else. After several years of marriage Jack said we needed to find a place to buy."

One snowy winter's day, "He said, `I've found a house and I want you to see it.' Well, it took us forever to get there because the roads were bad with snow but I loved the house."

He said, "Guess where we are . . . Brown County."

"I'd always thought of Brown County as a million miles away. I fell in love with the place and we've been here since 1977. We love it."

Georgeanna packs up her Beatle memorabilia and prepares to take it back to the safety of its bank vault. But none of these items—autographs, Beatlemania trinkets, and letters—is as precious as her memory of a unique time, an unusual adventure, and a good friend.

[Jai Guru Deva]

MY MERSEYSIDE MEMORY
By Glen Vollmecke (nee Swann)


The following story is true.

It’s based on memories of my teen years on Merseyside where I was born. Glen Vollmecke (nee Swann.) remembers the Beatles from her teenage years on Merseyside.

I won a two year art scholarship at the age of fifteen, and at first stubbornly resisted association with the art students, due mainly to their wild reputations and my own innate shyness.

Eventually, I began what proved to be some of the most memorable years of my young life.

A friend from art school raced alongside me one morning yelling excitedly that she had a date with Paul MacCartney, one of the Beatles playing at the Tower ballroom, I wasn’t impressed.

Perched on a hill surrounded by fairground exhibits, and resembling a huge medieval castle, was the Tower building. Originally standing 544 feet high and built in 1896 it resembled the Eiffel Tower in Paris, and peered bleakly over the River Mersey, and was adjacent to the Liver building on the other side, which was Liverpool, a few miles away from my home town of Wallasey.

My art school’s annual ‘Rag Day’ involved engineering colleges, and art schools from within a fifty mile radius. John Lennon studied at our ‘sister school’ in Liverpool. He was an eager costumed participant.

Parades of over forty floats, which resembled a Halloween holocaust, provided wild, un-subdued entertainment for all who watched.

John Lennon lived for most of his childhood on Menlove Avenue.

One wild evening as floats coasted inch by inch down the main street in all their coloured splendor, a ‘gang’ from John’s college ‘captured’ me. I was thrown onto over stuffed pillows in the Egyptian float, until I snatched a huge oar from their display and started swinging, needless to say I was released amid profuse apologies!

Surrounding the hysteria of the moment, my focus of fascination was the sight of John’s friends in their soccer outfits, while at the same time wearing ballerina tutus.
I’m almost positive he was one of them.

On one occasion our ‘life model’ Mary Antoinette Birtwhistle, who posed at our school in the buff, decided to abandon her raincoat in sub zero temperatures. Being completely naked underneath the coat, and without the benefit of warm clothing, the students in John’s crowd gleefully pelted her with rotten eggs. This caused a great deal of friction from ‘our side’ and after a heated exchange, we dutifully gathered up Mary, grabbed her raincoat, and shoved her on the next train home.

Another of our students, a pianist called Samuel and a talented musician was engrossed in banging out jazz on an old Salvation Army piano whilst our float moved slowly down the cobbled streets of Liverpool. Suddenly several pounds of flour and rotten eggs descended upon him from an abandoned building, absolutely ruining his loaned piano, not to mention his bronchial tubes!

Needless to say, these wild and reckless rag days were coming to an abrupt and hasty conclusion. The inevitable decision to terminate future rag days was made, much to the regret of all involved.

John Lennon lived with his in-laws during this time. The "Powels" lived across the road from my brother’s home in Hoylake. My brother was newly married, and also resided with his in-laws who were named "Powel." Therefore it wasn’t surprising that confusion within the postal system constantly occurred. My brother’s first born son Mark, was often the recipient of many of John’s fan mail, especially when Julian Lennon was born.

The cards and gifts were inadvertently sent to my family’s home by mistake. Art schools first year offered freedom and challenges.

My friend Diane and I often skipped classes on many a rainy afternoon for a frolic in Liverpool. I was dating a disc jockey "Clem" of the Iron Door Club, which was located next to the Cavern. This was where we met one grey rainy day, for coffee. Alone, we envisioned a peaceful and romantic interlude in the tiny, empty ballroom. However within five minutes we were rudely interrupted by four belligerent lads, complete with sets of drums, wires and microphones they set up their ‘gear’ amid exaggerated noise and laughter.

Clem loudly shouted as we departed, "give them a job and they get big headed!" The Beatles were unfazed.

Another incident at the club, involved a loud pounding at the door one evening, Clem as night manager excused himself, in order to investigate. Upon returning, he explained that a lad named Ringo was frantically trying to gain entry in order to join his ‘band,’ but obviously was in the wrong club. He raced next door to the Cavern, albeit late for his ‘gig!’ Clem just shook his head in disbelief.

No doubt poor Ringo was his usual disoriented self that night.

Smiling, I understood.

During one of Clem’s work nights at the Tower ballroom where he was a disc jockey, we spotted the Beatles arriving for their ‘gig.’ Four little black headed figures in black leather jackets were coming to the stage to ‘set up.’

They owed Clem money, three pounds to be exact, approximately five dollars. The conversation became heated, so out of curiosity I joined them.

My boyfriend demanded repayment, and did all the talking as they humbly bowed their heads, barely saying a word. Paul suddenly pulled out the lining of his pockets and said " sorry we don’t have it mate. Honest!"

The Cavern became a Mecca for the local students. It was a small underground cellar of an old warehouse, in a dark dismal alley. At night it became a sea of faces and neon lights. Our front, folding metal seats often vibrated with the pounding music. Groups from London often played the Cavern and seemed more prestigious than our local lads, at this time.

The floor literally shook as we sat dangerously close. It seemed that Ringo and his drums would bounce from this tiny stage, and land in our laps at any given moment. Ringo’s musical talents were impressive, although his silly vacant expression was hilarious. He spent many an evening ‘making eyes’ and pursing his huge lips in my direction as my friend and I danced the twist!

My sister Jean admonished, "if you ever bring HIM home, your mother will choke you!"
As an art student, I worked part time at the Tower ballroom café as a cashier. The lads often brought their trays laden with cellophane packaged goodies through the check out. Ringo’s attempts at flirtation were more amusing than annoying!
Remembering my sister’s warning, I remained aloof!

Manning the Tower spotlight one evening was John, the manager’s son. He fell for every girl who showed him attention, and was smitten with me for around two weeks. On this particular night, he ‘spotlighted’ myself and a friend several minutes at a time while we danced, leaving the "Fab Four" in total darkness.

The language and yelling, which emanated from the dark and gloomy stage was unprintable!

Paul especially, reacted angrily when the swooning teenage girls excitedly grabbed his ankles, in an almost successful attempt to extricate him from the stage. He became ‘heated’ quickly, and his language was crude leaving no doubt as to his intentions.
John was more patient but prone to being quick tempered and very sarcastic.
Ringo the ‘clown’ was dopey, adorable, and silly. George was painfully shy and kept quietly to himself, barely raising his head to ‘view’ his surroundings.

I was a sensitive sixteen year old. My best friend Diane and I enjoyed a rum and black currant in the Tower bar one evening. We were seated in the almost empty room next to the Beatles. Shortly an ex boyfriend entered. He was a bouncer for the Tower, we were not on speaking terms, so he loudly stated that at sixteen I was underage and had to leave. The group of four at the next table snickered, giggled and nudged each other as I made a hasty albeit humiliated retreat, glass in hand.

Suddenly Brian Epstein, their new London connection and manager entered our lives. We sensed a ‘quickening’ an acceleration as though we were losing something, we’d taken for granted. He hovered around the ballroom which quickly emptied of its’ revelers, as one noisy Saturday evening concluded. I paused to hear the conversation of this imposing and confident foreigner, whom I sensed was in complete, and irreversible control of our ‘lads.’
"Passing ships in the sea" was all I heard, as he gazed at the last few teens rushing to catch the late bus home.

Soon afterwards, the lads left for Germany.

My mother returned to live in her native island of Jersey near France. At seventeen I was alone. For several months I worked in Jersey then decided to try my luck in London’s West End. I found a job in a fashionable store in Oxford Street, as a window dresser/designer. As I proudly related my experiences in animated detail to my friends and co-workers, I was thrilled to see the ‘lads’ in a postage stamp sized photo in a variety magazine, Rolling Stones.

Excitedly I passed the page around, but these people were unimpressed. Several weeks later, the lads returned from Germany and took London by storm. The world would know the Beatles.

My co-worker said, "Glen, let me see that tiny clipping of your Liverpool lads again!"

Written by Glen Vollmecke (nee Swann.)

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[For more, click on the links at the bottom of this story.]
www.bbc.co.uk/liverpool/localhistory/my_memory/beatles_01.shtml