Best of the Beatles

Over the years I had heard many different stories and opinions as to why Pete Best had been sacked from the Beatles and I decided to write a book exclusively on the subject. It was called
Drummed Out! The Sacking of Pete Best
and it was published in the UK in 1998. I thoroughly enjoyed researching the book and it was the closest I have got to writing a detective story.

Rather pleasantly, there has been a groundswell of good opinions about this book. People seem to have enjoyed it and have asked where they can get hold of it. To this end I am very happy to say that an updated and revised book is being published by the excellent McNidder & Grace, with thanks to Michael Heatley at Northdown for letting me use the original text.

When I wrote the original book, a couple of critics said that I should have included the sources for all my quotations. I didn’t do this because it was intended to be an entertaining read, a readable book, and not an academic discourse. The majority of the quotes come from my own interviews and conversations with musicians and if anyone does need to know the source material, they can get in touch with me through my website (
www.spencerleigh.co.uk
). I can assure any reader that all the quotations are genuine and in most cases, I have them on tape.

The Beatles may have ceased to be but much has happened in the Beatle world since 1998. There are new books published every month and the amount of research is breathtaking. Only recently I met an academic who is writing a book linking the Beatles’ lyrics and the Mersey poets. Mark Lewisohn published the first volume of his history of the Beatles and their times,
The Beatles – All These Years: Tune In
, in 2013 but his meticulous research does not, I think, close the door to future investigation but rather highlights what else could be done. As Van Morrison remarked in another context, “It’s too late to stop now.”

I’ve also done further research of my own on the sacking of Pete Best since 1998 and this has been included in this delightful new book. Hope that you enjoy it.

Spencer Leigh
March 2015

“Think what we would have missed if we had never heard the Beatles.”

Queen Elizabeth II celebrating her golden wedding

The Beatles’ career has been documented in thousands of books, articles and broadcasts, not to mention the internet. A lifetime would be too short to digest it all, but I am certain that no-one has seriously attempted to explain the sacking of Pete Best.

So much is known about the Beatles and yet so little is known about the background to Pete Best’s dismissal:

• Why did the other Beatles sack Pete Best?
  
• What role did each individual Beatle play in that decision?
  
• Did Brian Epstein encourage them or try to dissuade them?
  
• Why was Pete Best sacked in such an insensitive manner?
  
• Was Ringo Starr the obvious replacement?
  

Only four people knew with certainty what went on – John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Brian Epstein. Apart from a few cryptic comments, the normally garrulous Lennon died with his story. Ditto Brian Epstein and George Harrison. There is much that Paul McCartney can say about this issue but it seems unlikely that he will do at this late stage. Possibly he will confirm or deny this
book’s conclusions but don’t hold your breath. Paul is still skilful at dodging reporters’ questions and, in court in May 1998, George said he used meditation to help forget the past.

The Beatle literature is also silent on this subject. The contemporary newspaper,
Mersey Beat
, was subjected to spin-doctoring by Brian Epstein. The prolific Beatle biographer, Geoffrey Guiliano, skirts the subject, while Alan Clayson gives one explanation in the biography of George Harrison and another in his biography of Ringo Starr. Interviewers have missed their opportunities. Although, to be fair, the issue may not be high in their list of questions. Jann Wenner for
Rolling Stone
(1971), David Sheff for
Playboy
(1980) and Andy Peebles for the BBC (1980) spent hours interviewing John Lennon, and all failed to raise the issue. I can’t criticise them as I’m as neglectful myself. I had 22 minutes of Paul McCartney’s time for BBC Radio Merseyside and never even mentioned their hapless drummer. Add to this that Paul is so damn nice; I suspect that even Jeremy Paxman would submit to his charm and not pursue his interrogation.

The publication of Paul McCartney and Barry Miles’
Many Years from Now
in 1997 prompted this book. Paul is frank, very frank, about his sexual exploits and his
drug-taking
but, despite 600 pages, Pete Best only merits one line in the Index – to be accurate, only half a line as he is bracketed with his mother Mona, usually known as Mo. We learn that the Beatles went to Mo’s club the Casbah, that Pete joined the group, and that Pete left 2 years later. That’s it, and yet there are whole pages about their former bass guitarist Stuart Sutcliffe who, musically speaking, was a passenger. To be fair, the publisher may have cut the text, or Paul may be saving the Pete Best saga for a second volume or another project, but I doubt it.

So I decided to write this book. I have spoken to numerous musicians about Pete Best and I have looked at all the major reference books and been through all the interviews I have kept over the years. I was hoping that this wealth of material would suggest some explanations and I have followed up my leads with further interviews. I have enjoyed being Inspector Morse. I hope that you agree with my conclusions but, whatever, you now have the information and can interpret it for yourself.

Unless identified otherwise, all the quotes come from interviews I have conducted for BBC Radio Merseyside, or for the annual Merseybeatle Convention or for this book. My thanks to BBC Radio Merseyside for the use of my interview material, and also to David Horn at the Institute of Popular Music at the University of Liverpool for encouragement, and for putting me in contact with Garry Tamlyn, an authority on drumming techniques, and the Head of Contemporary Music at Queensland Conservatorium, Australia. My thanks also to Trevor Cajiao, Andrew Doble, Peter Doggett, Bob Groom, Neil Hiley, Ian Kennedy, Bernd Matheja, Bill Morrison, Mick O’Toole, Denis Reed, Daniel van der Slik, René van Haarlem and Granville Wolstenholme. I have also used an interview with Pete and Roag Best from the 17th International Dutch Beatles Convention, Amsterdam in 1996.

Because Pete Best and his brother Roag are involved in various projects they felt unable to help with this book, but I have drawn upon personal interviews over the years as well as Pete’s autobiographies. There can’t be many people who have written their life story twice. How many more does he plan?

Whatever Pete Best’s limitations, the Beatles treated him shittily. His pride took a tremendous knock and yet he has acted without bitterness or rancour over the years. If he
harbours a grudge, he keeps it well hidden. Large portions of this book may be as new to Pete as they were to me – after all, when you’re kicked out of a band, you’re not party to the discussions which explain why you’re being sacked.

“Ah, the Beatles. There were five of them if I remember.”

Dirk Bogarde being interviewed on BBC TV, 1983

Two childhood reminiscences.

Firstly: from Hunter Davies’ authorised biography of the Beatles, published in 1968. Paul McCartney is talking about his relationship with his parents. “I was pretty sneaky,” says Paul, “If I ever got bashed for being bad, I used to go into their bedroom when they were out and rip the lace curtains at the bottom just a little bit, then I’d think, that’s got them.”

Secondly: ‘The Frog Chorus’ from Paul McCartney’s authorised biography,
Many Years from Now
, published in 1997. Paul McCartney is going for the countryside vote. “All my mates killed frogs anyway. They used to blow them up by sticking a straw up their arse. That was the way to kill a frog. I didn’t fancy that, I thought that was a little bit pervy. I preferred a straightforward killing with a bash, hold the legs and just smash ’em on the head.”

A maxim from William Wordsworth: The child is father of the man.

In July 1997, five surviving Quarry Men reformed for a garden fête at St Peter’s Church in Woolton. The opening number, quite appropriately, was ‘Lost John’
and it was followed by ‘Midnight Special’, ‘Pick a Bale of Cotton’ and some rock ’n’ roll standards. The 50-somethings were recreating the skiffle music of their youth in order to recapture the moment when John Lennon met Paul McCartney 40 years earlier. It was a celebration for all who attended except, perhaps, for the Quarry Men themselves. All but one had been sacked by John Lennon, or seen the writing on the wall – the fifth, Len Garry, left because he contracted TB. But, TB or not TB, John Lennon was the only original Quarry Man remaining by 1959, some 18 months later.

On a film clip in
The Anthology
series, John Lennon stated, “I was the singer and I was the leader, and I made the decision to have Paul in the group. Was it better to have a guy who was better than the people I had in, or not? The decision was to let Paul in to make the group stronger.”

The Quarry Men’s banjo player, Rod Davis, recalls, “I had bought the banjo from my uncle and if he’d sold me his guitar, I might have been a decent enough guitarist to keep McCartney out of the band. I might have learnt guitar chords, I might not, and that was the big limitation really. McCartney could play the guitar like a guitar and we couldn’t, and let’s face it, a banjo doesn’t look good in a rock ’n’ roll group. I only met Paul on one other occasion after the Woolton fête and it was at auntie Mimi’s a week or two later. He dropped in to hear us practising. From my point of view, I was the person he was replacing – it’s like Pete Best – you’re the guy who doesn’t know. Some things had gone on that I was unaware of.”

John’s best friend, Pete Shotton, played washboard. “We were doing a gig in Rosebery Street; it was Colin’s auntie’s do. We were performing on the back of a lorry and John and I went inside the house and we were sitting on the floor. We were having a few beers, John had a reputation
for drinking but he hadn’t been drinking when Paul first met him. We were drinking a few beers and we were getting pissed because it only takes a couple at that age. I said to John, ‘This is not really my scene; I’m embarrassed to be up there.’ John picked up my washboard and smashed it over my head and said, ‘That solves that then, Pete.’ The decision had already been made that he was going to develop a serious band and that couldn’t, by definition, include me. It didn’t hurt and we fell about laughing – me with relief and John with relief as well. He had resolved a situation which was very tricky for him.”

Eric Griffiths hung on for 6 months, trying to play the guitar competently. “Paul had mentioned George Harrison in the context of him being a particularly good guitarist. I don’t think I ever played any shows with him but I certainly practised with him. He was a good guitarist, better than me, and shortly after that I left the group. Paul and John asked me to go on to the bass and that meant buying a bass guitar and an amplifier which I wasn’t prepared to do as the group wasn’t going anywhere, and it was an investment on my mother’s part that I wasn’t prepared to follow through. So I went, and George was in. I was sorry to go and they then had to decide who was going to play the bass out of the three of them. I never played a guitar again. I joined the Merchant Navy and my life went in a different direction.”

Drummer Colin Hanton: “John, Paul and Eric Griffiths were the three guitarists and I was on drums. Eventually we were playing at the Morgue in Old Swan, which was run by Rory Storm, and it was a real dump. It was a condemned building and the whole thing was illegal and never advertised. It was a large terraced house and the front room was being used as a tiny dance-hall with a stage. There was a long corridor to other rooms, which were the dressing-rooms, and that is where we met
George Harrison. Somebody asked him to play something. I thought it was ‘Guitar Boogie’ but everyone else reckons it was ‘Raunchy.’ A few days later Ivan Vaughan told me that Paul and John wanted George to join the group, but Eric would have to go as they didn’t want four guitarists. I was living on borrowed time as they were running the group. I got fed up in the end. I had carted my drums around on a bus for 2 years as none of us had cars. There were a lot of talent contests where we came second – we were always the bridesmaid and I’d had enough.”

Friendships didn’t count. John Lennon would replace musicians if he thought it would improve the group. In the future, if the occasion arose, he would be prepared to sack Pete Best.

An English army officer, John Best, married a Red Cross nurse of English parentage, Mona, when he was in India. Randolph Peter Best was born in Madras on 24 November 1941 and his brother Rory was born in 1944. The family arrived in Liverpool on Christmas Day 1945 and after staying with relations, eventually settled in a large Victorian house in a middle-class suburban area – 8 Hayman’s Green, West Derby. Johnny Best was a notable boxing promoter, staging fights at Liverpool Stadium by Randolph Turpin and Freddie Mills. Their marriage fell apart in the early 1950s and Mona devoted herself to her sons and their friends who called her ‘Mo’, a derivative of mother as well as Mona.
(This is the paragraph as originally written in 1998. The Best family background is somewhat more complicated than this. Please refer to the Postscript.)

Peter won a scholarship to the Liverpool Collegiate in Shaw Street. He obtained five O-levels and was
half-heartedly
thinking of becoming a teacher, an unlikely choice for someone depicted as ‘silent’ in all the Beatle books. Then rock ’n’ roll took its hold.

The jazz-based Cavern Club had opened in 1957, but some coffee-bars were catering for rock ’n’ roll-minded teenagers. Mona Best turned the large cellars of her house into a rock ’n’ roll club. She named it, rather exotically, the Casbah, a reference to the 1938 film,
Algiers
, which starred Charles Boyer and which supposedly contains the line, “Come with me to the Casbah,” although this is never said.

Mona Best: “The boys wanted a club for their friends, but I thought it should be bigger than that. We worked all hours to get the cellar open and we had people coming from all places. Everyone wanted to join the Casbah. We ended up with 2,950 members, which was fantastic.” Fortunately, they all didn’t attend at once, but for a house in the suburbs, it was a remarkable achievement. It also illustrates how ill-advised the Cavern was to stick with jazz.

The Les Stewart Quartet was booked for the opening night, 29 August 1959. The Quarry Men had few bookings and George Harrison was one of the quartet. However, a fierce argument led to Les Stewart disbanding the group and George and their bass player, Ken Brown, teamed with up John and Paul to perform as the Quarry Men on the opening night. No drummer. John brought along his girlfriend, Cynthia Powell, whom he had met at the College of Art and whom he would eventually marry, and another art school friend, Stuart Sutcliffe.

The Quarry Men were booked for each subsequent Saturday night – the club was simply open as a coffee-bar with a jukebox for the rest of the week. On 10 October, Ken Brown had hurt his leg and was not fit to play with the Quarry Men. Their fee was £3, and rather than give £1 to John, Paul and George, Mo gave them each 15 shillings (75p) and said she was holding the balance for Ken. The three guitarists were so annoyed that they vowed never to play the Casbah again and sacked the ailing
Mr Brown for hanging on to 15 bob.

Not to worry, as Ken had seen Pete Best bashing out the rhythm on chairs and tables. He suggested that they formed a group and so the Blackjacks was born. Although a record attendance of 1,350 has been claimed, this is preposterous, and in any event, the pillars in the cellar meant that only 50 or so members could see the band at any one time. Even if the garden were full, there would only be 300 on the premises and why would anyone go if they couldn’t see the band? Still, it was certainly cramped and uncomfortable and fortunately for Mona Best, fire regulations were nowhere as stringent as today’s, and certainly the authorities took little notice of clubs, such as the Casbah, which weren’t licensed. The Best’s neighbours were a placid and tolerant bunch – partly because so few teenagers had cars and partly because their own children went to the Casbah. What is more, there was another basement club, the Lowlands, which had opened before the Casbah and straight across the road. Indeed, you could argue that there was no need for the Casbah at all with Lowlands around, but Mona saw the Casbah as a profitable exercise and she was soon providing superior entertainment. Mona Best says of her club, “The club had a friendliness and a homeliness that was hard to equal. If there was any trouble at the Casbah, you didn’t just take on the bouncers, you took on the club.”

Other groups to appear at the Casbah included Gerry and the Pacemakers and Rory Storm and the Hurricanes with their drummer, Ringo Starr. The three key members of the Quarry Men did not play the Casbah again until 17 December 1960, which marked their return from Hamburg with Pete Best as their drummer.

Allan Williams reminds me of Arthur Daley in
Minder
. It may be unfair, but the image is of his own making, as the entrepreneur can be found in Liverpool pubs,
dreaming up new ideas to make him millions. Somehow they never come off. His scheme to turn Spain into another Blackpool by manufacturing rock for tourists fell foul of the authorities, and people say he was on street corners going, “Psst, want to buy a stick of rock.” Some old leather trousers, allegedly worn by Paul McCartney, appeared in a Sotheby’s catalogue with a certificate of authenticity from Allan Williams. It transpired that they belonged to Faron of Faron’s Flamingos.

It was Allan Williams, a one-time plumber, who introduced bullfighting (with a real bull!) into Liverpool club land. It was Allan Williams who booked the Beatles to back Janice, an over-endowed Manchester stripper, for a week in a dodgy Liverpool Club. It was Allan Williams who planned to get the tapes of the Beatles in Hamburg released; he also planned to cut up the original tapes and sell one-inch strips in key-chain souvenirs. On the videotape of
Imagine…The Sixties
, Billy Butler refers to a club burning down, adding, “And Allan Williams didn’t own it.” When Allan asked Paul McCartney to sign his book about the Fab Four,
The Man Who Gave the Beatles Away
, Paul said, “I’ve got to be careful here. Whatever I write is going to be quoted on the paperback.” He wrote, “To Allan, Some parts of this book are partially true, Paul McCartney.”

Allan Williams and the former Cavern DJ Bob Wooler have often appeared at Beatle Conventions, even travelling to New York for a prestigious one. They stayed at the same hotel as Richard Nixon and several aides, and Allan and Bob had the larger bar bill paid, of course, by the organisers. Nice to think that Brits can do some things better than the Yanks.

Every city presumably has one, but Allan Williams is one of the most colourful characters around. I can’t help liking the guy even though I’d never buy anything from him.

(I passed this text to Allan Williams before publication and asked him if there was anything he wished to amend, secretly hoping that he would add a few more hilarious misadventures. He told Bob Wooler that a few things were wrong – he was more like Del Boy in
Only Fools and Horses
than Arthur Daley – but he never gave me the amendments. Not that he would be bothered; when ghosting
The Man Who Gave the Beatles Away,
Bill Marshall of the
Daily Mirror
found that he had not enough material. He asked Allan if he could invent some stories about the Beatles to fill it out. Allan said yes, and didn’t even see them before publication. These stories have become part of Mythew Street and Allan Williams recounts them at Beatle Conventions as though they really happened. Allan Williams is contemplating another semi-fictional book of Beatle reminiscences when he should be writing about his other business ventures. There’s a wonderful book to be written about Liverpool’s underworld in the late 1950s/early 1960s, a book that could do for Liverpool what Colin MacInnes’
Absolute Beginners
did for Soho.)

In 1958, Allan Williams, himself a trained singer, opened the Jacaranda coffee-bar in Liverpool’s city centre – 23 Slater Street to be precise. It’s still there and in the basement you can see the original murals by Stuart Sutcliffe and, possibly, John Lennon – well, guess who claims that? Don’t all rush at once – they’re nothing to write home about, just gloomy, sub-Picasso doodlings.

Early in 1960 Eddie Cochran and Gene Vincent were touring the UK for impresario Larry Parnes. The tour played the Liverpool Empire for a week and Allan Williams suggested that the two rockers might top a show at the Liverpool Stadium on their return in May. Cochran was killed on 17 April but Vincent was forced to honour his contract. The Stadium show included Gerry and the
Pacemakers but not the Beatles, who were not considered good enough.

Parnes told Williams that he was looking for a backing group for Billy Fury, and the Beatles attended the auditions on 10 May with Johnny Hutchinson of Cass and the Cassanovas playing drums. As a result, the Beatles backed another Parnes protégé (and Scouser), Johnny Gentle, on a tour of Scotland. John, Paul, George and Stu (on bass) took Tommy Moore as their drummer.