When They Were Boys (24 page)

As Astrid remembers, “The Beatles smelled awful. . . . They had to wash where the Kino customers were having a wee. When they came to my house they would want to have showers.”

A visit to the Kirchherr household also offered hot meals, and a family atmosphere that was missing in the booze- and drug-filled lives of the four Beatles. They would routinely visit, clean up, eat home cooking, and return to the club, where they would alternate with Rory Storm and the Hurricanes when that band finally arrived in Hamburg.

And besides the dirt, drinking, and drugs, there was another problem: sex. Too much, and with the wrong crowd. For Allan Williams, the readily available sex was less a distraction, in his view, than a real medical threat. Williams was no doctor, but by the time the first trip was over, he might have qualified for status as a nurse.

“They had a lot of fun,” Williams recalls.

A
LL THE GIRLS WHO WENT OUT WITH THEM . . . MOST WERE PROSTITUTES
. I
T WAS A RED-LIGHT DISTRICT AND THE GIRLS USED TO SIT IN THE WINDOW AND YOU JUST PICK A WOMAN AND YOU KNOW THERE
'
D BE A BACK ROOM WHERE YOU
'
D DO YOUR SHAGGING
. A
ND THESE GIRLS, OF COURSE, LOVED THE
B
EATLES
. M
OST OF THE GROUPS CAME BACK FROM
H
AMBURG WITH A DOSE OF GONORRHEA
. . . . I
WAS CALLED THE POX DOCTOR
. T
HEY USED TO COME AND SAY
, “L
OOK
, I'
VE GOT A DOSE; YOU KNOW, THE CLAP
.” S
O
I'
D MAKE THEM PISS INTO A GLASS AND LOOK AT IT, AND IF IT WAS LIKE SHREDDED WHEAT
, I'
D SAY
, “Y
OU BETTER GET DOWN TO THE DOCTOR; YOU
'
VE GOT A DOSE
. . . .” O
NE SHOT IN THE ASS AND THEY WERE OKAY
.

Williams, who has the most joyful laughter you will ever hear, laughs out loud when he talks about his so-called medical career.

“Truthfully, the prostitutes in the windows loved the boys. I mean, it wasn't a real problem, though it could be troubling.”

He howls again.

“The truth, Larry? In the red-light district of Hamburg, [getting an STD] was like catching a cold.”

While the Beatles got their medical “protection” courtesy of Allan Williams, they found an unusual protector of their bodies in the form of ex-boxer, and ex-con, Horst Fascher, who was also, coincidentally, a lover of rock music. Fascher, “the Enforcer,” was a bouncer for club owner Koschmider at the Indra and the Kaiserkeller. He protected the boys from the violent thugs of St. Pauli, and also from themselves. One dramatic night, the Enforcer noticed that John was missing from the stage. He looked and looked and found young John in a restroom, where he was locked in an embrace with a woman. Never one for displaying a gentle touch, Fascher poured water over both lovers and demanded that John get on the stage, “even if he was stark naked.” John did appear with only his underpants on, along with the covering guitar, and according to Fascher, the “toilet seat hanging around his neck.”

But despite the sleep deprivation and sanitary disasters, the boys managed to rock their way to a limited sense of self-worth and gratification.

What Williams and Fascher couldn't do was protect the boys from Koschmider's fighting goons, who punished them for abandoning the Kaiserkeller for another club. The Beatles' sudden arrival at a third club, the Top Ten, set off a rampage against them by the furious club owner, leading to a disgraceful exit from Hamburg. The only bright spot of the attacks against the boys was the courageous defense by Fascher, whose presence was menacing to the gangsters, who enforced their own brand of martial law. Fascher's protection was a courageous defense, but he couldn't cover every attack, and the boys were constantly being beaten up.

“I tried to protect them, Larry, but it didn't always work,” Fascher says. “I did my best against the bastards. When they left, I was really down. I really liked these boys.”

Much like the trio of friends who will soon enter this story, Fascher would make a difference later on.

The Beatles were finished with the filth, sex, violence, and short-lived hope of Hamburg. They were done with Hamburg, after a humiliating exit.

They would be happy to never go back, but “going back” had a much different meaning when the boys returned to Liverpool, unknown and ready to consider blowing it all up.

CHAPTER EIGHT

BREAKTHROUGH AT LITHERLAND

“I had never seen anything like it. . . . It was a near fucking riot.”

—Tony Bramwell

“I was completely knocked out by them . . .

pounding, pulsating, overwhelming.”

—Brian Kelly, music promoter

“People didn't go to a dance to scream. This was news.”

—Pete Best

“I was flabbergasted.”

—Bob Wooler

Isn't it amazing how one moment in time, like a flash, can change the direction of our lives—a meeting, a chance encounter, a walk into the unknown, a look, even a glance, and perhaps also the timing of such things. Is it fate? Whatever it is, it just kept showing up for the boys.

There were so many emotions for the boys when they returned from Hamburg in mid-December 1960. George was already at home sulking, embarrassed that he, the underage Beatle, had actually been deported from Germany. The deportation was not received well in the Harrison household. Harry Harrison was livid, but as always, supportive and concerned about his son's dreams. Pete and Paul were accused by the nightclub owner, Koschmider, of starting a fire at the famous, odorous Bambo Kino, as they were packing their suitcases. Paul and Pete were arrested. After the embarrassing episode, the boys were released and no charges were filed, evidence that the accusations were questionable in the first place. After this unseemly finale in Hamburg, they came home shortly thereafter, arriving without
luggage or money. Paul, pressured by father Jim, applied for work and labored briefly as an assistant to a truck driver; he was soon laid off. Pete, with the help of his mother, scheduled a concert for the boys at the Casbah. This was a welcome break in what seemed like endless days and nights for the exalted yet emasculated and ejected Hamburg rockers. John, the man who'd told the nightclub owner to “get stuffed,” left on his own, without incident, wishing a brief farewell to Stu, who stayed with Astrid in Hamburg. John was visibly distressed when he returned to Menlove Avenue. He was moody and down-beat, and rarely left home unless it was to see his girlfriend, Cynthia Powell.

It is ironic that Pete, the most positive Beatle in terms of the band's possible fate at that juncture—even more than Paul—eventually would find his loyalty and optimism unrewarded. But before that happened, Pete's fast effort to put together the Casbah concert, after the humiliating return from Hamburg, was an attempt to revive the boys' spirits. His mother, Mona, also knew that getting the boys on stage again would be a tonic. At the same time that Mona scheduled the Casbah concert, there was talk among the Beatles of breaking the entire project apart—dissolving the band entirely. These were serious conversations, especially between John and Paul.

George Harrison, in particular, was beginning to doubt his future with and his place in the band. At this point, he was also sensing that his friend, Paul, was trying to push him into the background. His feelings may have been overreaction, but that's the way he felt at the time.

“George would tell me stories about that on so many different occasions,” the late press master and writer Derek Taylor shared with me in the sixties. “At first, he thought he was just overreacting, but it was a sore point, a sensitivity about his role, and his feeling that Paul, even at that young age, was trying to diminish it, that would stay with him for a long time.”

Paul brought George into the band and was generally supportive of his younger friend, especially during the days after Hamburg when everything was falling to pieces. It was, after all, George who suffered the greatest embarrassment when he was ejected from Germany.

“Paul can be Paul because Paul is Paul,” said longtime friend Tony Bramwell, in a conversation in 2010. “In those days it was all about survival,
and maybe by being just upbeat and looking confident. But the truth is, Paulie always loved George and loves him today.”

One aspect of life inside the Beatles was the fear factor. Age played a role. How stable were all of us as teenagers? George Harrison was seventeen years old in 1960—
just seventeen
—and none was over twenty-one. Can you imagine the insecurity suffered by all of them, especially after the highs and lows of Hamburg?

The boys had toned up their act in the sweat- and smoke-filled Kaiserkeller, living hard, drinking harder, and loving the working women in St. Pauli. They stirred the crowds, but in their minds had nothing to show for it, absolutely nothing. Or at least that's what they thought.

“The project did not seem to benefit from all their trying,” remembers Stuart's sister, Pauline. “Our family was a little nervous about Stu staying behind with Astrid, but he seemed happy; the other boys were not. They had taken their shot, and felt down about it. At least Stuart had the gift of love.”

The damp winter weather had arrived in Liverpool. The boys were a mess. Shame. Depression. Hopelessness. By Christmas there were more whispers of ending the experiment. Yes, it is true. The Beatles came this close to disbanding forever in the winter of 1960. And if they had, who could have questioned the decision? By any standard, their conduct in Hamburg was dubious, considering they got involved in contract-jumping, out-of-control drug use, a lack of organization, and Allan Williams's humorous yet constant issue: visits to the doctor—a payment, you might say, for unprotected adventures in Hamburg. In truth, this was not a band of sophisticated troubadours, but rather five young people, ranging in age from seventeen to twenty, who still had some maturing to do. What could you expect, really?

That absence of direction, mixed with youthful ignorance of real-life challenges, would open the door for a daring young manager to enter the scene in late 1961. The question in December 1960: Could they hold on? In life, ignorance of the unknown is an absolute killer of dreams. For that moment, in the days after Hamburg, the doors were shut. Shut tight.

For teenagers there are always consequences, and the earlier episode of immaturity might have cost them. Their lack of maturity had surfaced nine
months before when John snubbed London agent Larry Parnes, in the famous conversation when Parnes insisted on dropping either Stu or their part-time drummer, months before Pete Best joined the group. John's angry attitude toward Londoner Parnes had not exactly endeared the group to the London agents.

So, over six months later, Johnny's boys were given the most famous second chance in music history. And they didn't even know it.

Christmas Day 1960 was challenging for Brian Kelly, a young Liverpool promoter. He was one group short in his lineup for a dance at the Litherland Town Hall, north of Liverpool. The town hall, today a health center, was huge, with a capacity of 450. Kelly was eager to fill the bill when he got a surprise call from Allan Williams's associate, Bob Wooler, who offered the Beatles for the slot. Wooler—who saw something early on in the four lads—plays a key role in the Beatles' rise, and was even victimized by it, as you will learn later. The promoter, Kelly, had no knowledge of the Beatles at the time. He remembered a group called the Silver Beatles, though not fondly, and was hesitant to book them. But Wooler intervened, and along with Kelly, made the deal.

In an interview with Gillian Gaar of
Goldmine
magazine in 1996, Wooler explained how it came about. Wooler had met up with the boys again after they returned from Hamburg,

RATHER IN DISGRACE, BECAUSE THEY WERE BOOTED OUT
. I
WAS THEN WORKING FOR
A
N
ORTH
E
ND
L
IVERPOOL PROMOTER WHO HAD A STRING OF DANCES, AND THEY HAD NO WORK, AND
I
FIXED THEM UP WITH WHAT TURNS OUT TO BE A MEMORABLE DATE
. A
ND IT
'
S NOT JUST ME SAYING THAT
. I
N
WHO
'
S
W
HO
,
THE
B
RITISH EDITION, IN
M
C
C
ARTNEY
'
S ENTRY, OF ALL THE BOOKINGS AND APPEARANCES THEY MADE AROUND THE WORLD, LIKE
S
HEA
S
TADIUM OR THE
C
AVERN DATES, IT SINGLES OUT AS THE MOST SIGNIFICANT DATE THAT THE
B
EATLES PERFORMED THE ONE
I
GOT THEM ON
T
UESDAY, THE 27TH OF
D
ECEMBER
, 1960.

F
OR SIX POUNDS, BY THE WAY, THAT
'
S ALL THE PROMOTER WOULD PAY THEM
. N
OT SIX POUNDS PER PERSON, BUT FOR THE WHOLE GROUP
. I'
D SAID
, “L
OOK
, I'
M DOING THE SHOW
, I'
LL PUT YOU ON JUST
FOR HALF-AN-HOUR, AT A VERY GOOD SPOT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.
P
LEASE DO IT
.” A
ND THEY HAD NO OTHER WORK, SO THEY DID IT
. A
ND THAT
'
S THE DATE LISTED IN
W
HO
'
S
W
HO
AS BEING THE MOST SIGNIFICANT DATE
. A
TURNING-POINT DATE
. A
LANDMARK DATE
.