THE FIRST EVER BEATLES FAN CONVENTION

This week sees the annual Beatles fan convention in Liverpool which closes after the August Bank Holiday weekend. It’s been running, on and off, since 1977 but the first one ever was held 50 years ago in July in America, in Boston, the second two months later at the Commodore Hotel in New York. I was there, reporting on the event for Melody Maker, and what I remember most about it was bumping into May Pang, John Lennon’s partner at the time, whom I knew because she was present when I’d interviewed John in LA the previous year. John has sent May along to buy stuff for him but she didn’t know what John would want and when she saw me she asked my advice. I steered her in the direction of a few bootlegs because John had told me liked them, and since money was no object May bought several. 

I also suggested May buy some prints of photographs taken of The Beatles in Hamburg when they were playing there before they became famous, among them one of John in a doorway in a leather jacket with his hair quiffed up like a rocker. This had been taken in 1960 by their friend Jurgen Volmer who was at the event. We chatted with Jurgen and May bought a print of this same picture. The next time I saw it was on the cover of John’s 1975 LP Rock ‘N’ Roll. 

This was probably the first time fans had witnessed a Beatles tribute act, or any tribute act for that matter, which gives the feature I wrote for Melody Maker a rather archaic tone in the light of today’s tribute band world. Here’s what I wrote for the September 14, 1974, edition of MM: 

Ten years on and you can’t keep a good band down.

Last weekend New York plunged back into the days of Beatlemania. A two-day convention for Beatle fans brought on all the nostalgia for the four mop tops in an overdose of enthusiastic sentimentality that occasionally bordered on the ridiculous.

The loyalty of American Beatle fans is quite frightening. But more frightening still is that in ten years of progressive rock music no other artist or group has had anything like the impact on popular taste that The Beatles had when they exploded into our lives in 1963. (For US readers change that to 1964 – the convention was planned as a ten year anniversary celebration.)

Ironically Beatlefest ’74 – the second such event in the US this year, following the first at Boston a couple of months ago – occurred in a year when all the box-office records that The Beatles set up were well and truly shattered by the likes of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young or Eric Clapton. Even more anonymous American acts like Grand Funk, Chicago and Three Dog Night have probably eclipsed Beatles sales figures too. 

Beatlefest ’74, the brainchild of one Mark Lapidos, a 26-year-old assistant in a record shop and devoted Beatles fan, was the ultimate nostalgic celebration, offering convincing proof that no matter what people say or think, The Beatles, despite the fact that they’ve split up, remain the biggest rock act in the world. 

“I first had the idea of the festival last November, but it wasn’t until I ran into John in Central Park earlier this year that I decided to do something about I,” Mark told me. “He really liked the idea and put me in touch with people who’d be able to help. From that point on, it was on the road.”

Clearly, Lapidos had put much work into organising the event. It was a labour of love and profits went to Phoenix House, the drug rehabilitation centre in New York, a charity approved by The Beatles themselves. 

A raffle raised most of the money, prizes being guitars donated by John and Paul, a tabla from George and drum sticks from Ringo. In addition, John had autographed books which were auctioned, and 10% of all the new items sold in the market room went directly to charity. They raised $3,000.

The two days of Beatles fun included a host of attractions. There were showings of A Hard Day’s Night, Help!, Yellow Submarine, Magical Mystery Tour and Let It Be, along with more obscure promotional films loaned by Apple and private collectors. 

There were Beatles cartoons (pretty dreadful, actually), and talks given by people who were associated with the group, including Sid Bernstein, the promoter who brought them to Shea Stadium, disc-jockey Murray The K and Pete Bennett, the notorious Apple promotion man in New York.

Bernstein’s talk preceded the showing of the excellent Shea Stadium movie. Tinged with emotion, he told the assembled gathering how he negotiated with Brian Epstein (a huge cheer went up every time Epstein’s name was mentioned and when his face appeared on the screen) to promote The Beatles at Carnegie Hall on their first US appearance, February 13, 1964.

And when the film was shown these Beatle freaks reacted like a live audience, screaming, clapping and yelling as each motop went through their paces. It happened during the Dick Lester films too: whenever Paul shook his dark head or John grinned his absurd ear-to-ear smile, the cheers could be heard a mile along the street. In other rooms there were lectures and panel discussions on The Beatles, an art exhibition, continuous unedited Beatle interviews and swopping and dealing in Beatles merchandise.

The market room, in fact, was the eye-opener of the festival. Collectors were swopping and dealing in Beatles bric-a-brac long since off the production line. There were Beatles badges, Beatle mugs, Beatles dolls, Beatle trays, Beatle jog-saws, Beatle board games, Beatle wigs, and Beatle everything else. Of course, there were records and posters, some old, some new.

The most prized item, it seemed, was a good condition copy of The Beatles’ Yesterday And Today album. This, of course, was never released in Britain though the songs that made up the album were available on other LPs. What made it special, though, was the original sleeve design depicting The Beatles with chopped up baby dolls, which this was hastily deleted. It was re-issued with a different sleeve soon after. 

A mint condition album with the original sleeve was selling at one stall for $225 (about £90). Another stall sold a copy for £175. Singles in picture sleeves were selling at up to ten dollars (£4) and some of the older Beatles badges were selling for a similar amount.

It was a question of shopping around the various stalls to get the best deal. My only purchase was a badge an inch and a half in diameter with a black and white photo on the front with a brass surround. On one stall the badge was selling for $15 and on another for $10. Five minutes bartering and I got it for $7.

I still have the Beatle badge I bought that day. 

The most unusual attraction was a group called Liverpool, a Toronto outfit whose repertoire consists entirely of Beatle songs, mostly latter-day stuff which , of course, was never performed live by the real thing. Dressed to the nine in Sgt Pepper military costumes, the group stunned everyone with almost perfect imitations of Beatles music. 

It was their first New York appearance and they couldn’t have had a more sympathetic audience. Each song was greeted like an old friend and their hour-long set on each of the two nights developed into an emotional sing-along. To hear a thousand people singing ‘Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band’ brought a tear to many eyes, but their rendering of the medley of pieces from the second side of Abbey Road was the most impressive feature of their set.

They didn’t resemble The Beatles in the slightest, and one observer remarked that they looked more like the Grateful Dead out to fool everyone. A pity their bass player wasn’t left-handed – and he really ought to have had a Hofner Violin bass instead of a Fender. The drummer, however, had a perfect nasal voice, just like Ringo’s.

None of The Beatles turned up which was wise decision. Lennon, in town that weekend, had expressed a wish to go but, realising that he’d probably be torn limb from limb, decided against it and sent an emissary, his new girlfriend. Tony King, boss of Apple, was wandering round enjoying himself.

There was a Beatles quiz that was so difficult no one got all the questions right, though two enterprising fans managed 39 correct answers out of 40. There was a look-alike contest and a sound alike contest, the latter won by a youth who went up an sang ‘Yesterday’ accompanying himself on acoustic guitar and sounded every bit like Paul.

Price of admission was $10 which entitled you to 24 hours solid Beatling. Everyone got their money’s worth. 

“A splendid time is guaranteed for all,” said the programme. Quite right too.