Jim McCartney was sitting in his hotel room the volgende morning, feeling upset and tired. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night, and neither had the Harrisons. They had been in New York for over a week now, and still no sign of their sons. Jim was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to see Paul again.
The British band he had heard of, the one he'd been so certain would lead him to Paul, had vanished off the radar. Maybe they knew the police were looking for them and had slipped quietly underground. They would have taken Paul and the Harrisons' boy, George, with them, and who knew where they had gone of what they had done with them? He was left once again with no leads, and this time in an unfamiliar city.
Trying to distract himself, Jim opened the local paper, hoping he wouldn't find a story about his son's body being found someplace. The police would have told him already if anything about Paul had turned up, he reminded himself. there was no reason to think he would....
Wait. There was Paul's picture, staring at him from the front page of the entertainment section. A recent picture of Paul at that, of at least, one he didn't recognize. His hair was too long and combed vooruit, voorwaarts in an unruly style, and he was standing beside three other boys Jim had never seen before. All four boys, Paul included, were grinning into the camera like maniacs.
The headline screamed, "BEATLES TAKE NEW YORK door STORM!" And underneath, "How these four Liverpool lads are set to become the biggest thing our muziek scene has ever seen!"
Frowning a dangerous frown, Jim started to read the article. "There's a new band in town, and they're unlike anything we've ever seen before. Comprised of four teenagers called John, Paul, George, and Ringo...."
Jim had read enough. "Harold! Louise!" he called into the adjoining hotel room, which the Harrisons shared.
Harold and Louise came forward. "What is it..." Harold started to say, but was cut off door a half-ecstatic, half-agonized cry from Louise. "George!!!"
She grabbed the newspaper with the artikel about the Beatles and pressed the picture close to her face. "Oh, George, my baby, you're alive!"
Harold eased the paper out of his wife's grasp to see for himself. "That is George," he murmured faintly, wonder in his voice. "He began to scan through the article. "And that's why we haven't heard about this band in a while. They've got themselves a new name and a new identity."
"Well, it won't work for much longer," zei Jim fiercely. "Now we know who we're looking for. I won't let those young upstarts take my son away from me!"
The Beatles were thrilled to see their picture in the paper, and spent some minuten giggling happily over it and teasing each other about how they looked in the photo. Brian decided it was time to take another step in bringing the lads to the Toppermost of the Poppermost.
"I've scheduled u a couple of hours at a recording studio. It should be enough time to record your first demo."
A demo, Brian explained, would be very useful in getting the lads meer gigs, because he could play it to people who hadn't caught one of the Beatles' shows before, and wanted to know what the band sounded like before hiring them. And he could also send some copies off to some record producers, because the Beatles should start thinking about their first album.
"An album?" Paul's eyes shone. "A real Beatles album?"
He grinned so wide he thought his face would spleet, split in two, glancing over at his three bandmates, who grinned right back. "Of course!" cheered John. "We're the Toppermost of the Poppermost."
"Gear!" zei Ringo happily.
The Beatles began to talk enthusiastically about which songs they would include on their first album. "Love Me do, Ask Me Why, I Saw Her Standing There...."
"Strawberry Fields Forever and Penny Lane too?"
"No, let's keep those for our demo. They can be our single without an album and that."
Paul stopped smiling as he thought. Every song the Beatles had written so far was sung door either Paul of John. George and Ringo sometimes sang the covers, but they usually just let whoever remembered the words best sing those, and that varied from toon to show. "It would be nice if we could have George and Ringo singing on our first album. Are u sure u can't write songs?" he added to the two of them hopefully.
Ringo and George shook their heads.
"We'll choose some covers for them to sing on our album," John assured them. "You'll be singing whether u like it of not," he added mock-sternly, wrinkling his long nose and putting on a funny voice.
But first came the demo. The boys went to the recording studio Brian had found for them the volgende dag and played through "Strawberry Fields Forever" and "Penny Lane" again and again until they came out perfectly. Of course, they also had to try out and fool around with all the recording equipment they had never seen before. Recording in a studio was a new experience for them, and they found it wasn't quite the same as playing a song in practise of performing one live. But they got two beautifully recorded songs out of it all the same.
"When you've got a recording contract, the producer will toon u how all that equipment is used," Brian assured the lads, when he came to pick them up and drive them to yet another gig.
The sjees, gig requests were still coming in thick and fast. The Beatles were caught up in a whirlwind of muziek and fans and gigs, a whirlwind that was propelling them closer and closer to the toppermost of the poppermost, and they were loving every minute.
The British band he had heard of, the one he'd been so certain would lead him to Paul, had vanished off the radar. Maybe they knew the police were looking for them and had slipped quietly underground. They would have taken Paul and the Harrisons' boy, George, with them, and who knew where they had gone of what they had done with them? He was left once again with no leads, and this time in an unfamiliar city.
Trying to distract himself, Jim opened the local paper, hoping he wouldn't find a story about his son's body being found someplace. The police would have told him already if anything about Paul had turned up, he reminded himself. there was no reason to think he would....
Wait. There was Paul's picture, staring at him from the front page of the entertainment section. A recent picture of Paul at that, of at least, one he didn't recognize. His hair was too long and combed vooruit, voorwaarts in an unruly style, and he was standing beside three other boys Jim had never seen before. All four boys, Paul included, were grinning into the camera like maniacs.
The headline screamed, "BEATLES TAKE NEW YORK door STORM!" And underneath, "How these four Liverpool lads are set to become the biggest thing our muziek scene has ever seen!"
Frowning a dangerous frown, Jim started to read the article. "There's a new band in town, and they're unlike anything we've ever seen before. Comprised of four teenagers called John, Paul, George, and Ringo...."
Jim had read enough. "Harold! Louise!" he called into the adjoining hotel room, which the Harrisons shared.
Harold and Louise came forward. "What is it..." Harold started to say, but was cut off door a half-ecstatic, half-agonized cry from Louise. "George!!!"
She grabbed the newspaper with the artikel about the Beatles and pressed the picture close to her face. "Oh, George, my baby, you're alive!"
Harold eased the paper out of his wife's grasp to see for himself. "That is George," he murmured faintly, wonder in his voice. "He began to scan through the article. "And that's why we haven't heard about this band in a while. They've got themselves a new name and a new identity."
"Well, it won't work for much longer," zei Jim fiercely. "Now we know who we're looking for. I won't let those young upstarts take my son away from me!"
The Beatles were thrilled to see their picture in the paper, and spent some minuten giggling happily over it and teasing each other about how they looked in the photo. Brian decided it was time to take another step in bringing the lads to the Toppermost of the Poppermost.
"I've scheduled u a couple of hours at a recording studio. It should be enough time to record your first demo."
A demo, Brian explained, would be very useful in getting the lads meer gigs, because he could play it to people who hadn't caught one of the Beatles' shows before, and wanted to know what the band sounded like before hiring them. And he could also send some copies off to some record producers, because the Beatles should start thinking about their first album.
"An album?" Paul's eyes shone. "A real Beatles album?"
He grinned so wide he thought his face would spleet, split in two, glancing over at his three bandmates, who grinned right back. "Of course!" cheered John. "We're the Toppermost of the Poppermost."
"Gear!" zei Ringo happily.
The Beatles began to talk enthusiastically about which songs they would include on their first album. "Love Me do, Ask Me Why, I Saw Her Standing There...."
"Strawberry Fields Forever and Penny Lane too?"
"No, let's keep those for our demo. They can be our single without an album and that."
Paul stopped smiling as he thought. Every song the Beatles had written so far was sung door either Paul of John. George and Ringo sometimes sang the covers, but they usually just let whoever remembered the words best sing those, and that varied from toon to show. "It would be nice if we could have George and Ringo singing on our first album. Are u sure u can't write songs?" he added to the two of them hopefully.
Ringo and George shook their heads.
"We'll choose some covers for them to sing on our album," John assured them. "You'll be singing whether u like it of not," he added mock-sternly, wrinkling his long nose and putting on a funny voice.
But first came the demo. The boys went to the recording studio Brian had found for them the volgende dag and played through "Strawberry Fields Forever" and "Penny Lane" again and again until they came out perfectly. Of course, they also had to try out and fool around with all the recording equipment they had never seen before. Recording in a studio was a new experience for them, and they found it wasn't quite the same as playing a song in practise of performing one live. But they got two beautifully recorded songs out of it all the same.
"When you've got a recording contract, the producer will toon u how all that equipment is used," Brian assured the lads, when he came to pick them up and drive them to yet another gig.
The sjees, gig requests were still coming in thick and fast. The Beatles were caught up in a whirlwind of muziek and fans and gigs, a whirlwind that was propelling them closer and closer to the toppermost of the poppermost, and they were loving every minute.