The Beatles at the BBC in 1966. Photograph: Getty Images
Show Hide image

Why I didn't tell the whole truth about the Beatles

Hunter Davies admits he played his part in continuing the band's carefully cultivated image.

I can’t remember where I was in 1971 when I first read Jann S Wenner’s brilliant interviews in Rolling Stone magazine with John Lennon. (They later came out as a book, which is still in print, and are probably the best interviews John ever gave.) I do remember a bit of jawdropping admiration and, yes, jealousy that Wenner had managed to get so much out of him. He’d obviously caught John at a good moment, when he was raging against the world in general and the Beatles in particular. He said that their manager Brian Epstein had forced them into suits and that they’d “sold out”. And he attacked Paul: “When Paul was feeling kind, he’d give me a solo.” Most of all, he rubbished himself, saying what a bastard he had been.

I was enjoying all this when Wenner suddenly asked John about my book, The Beatles: the Authorised Biography, first published in 1968. “Well, it was really bullshit,” said John. He went on to explain that had omitted“the orgies and shit that happened on tour” and that I had allowed his aunt to take stuffout. It was the word “bullshit” that jumped out. I’m sure it gave huge pleasure to all theother Beatles hacks at the time but over the years it has largely been forgotten.

I barely remembered how hurt I had been at the time until, several times in the past few weeks, I was asked about that “bullshit” remark. A Polish TV crew, a German presenter and an Australian radio interviewer all dragged it up. Then, blow me, there came a fourth reference, by the charming but deadly Mariella Frostrup on Radio 4’s Open Book. It wasn’t to the word  “bullshit” or directly to Wenner’s interview but she did ask why I hadn’t given details of all the groupies. After all these decades.

In 1971, I rang John up in New York shortly after the interview appeared and he just laughed. “You know me, Hunt, I just say anything that comes into me head.” And it is true that he admitted to Wenner that he often doesn’t make sense. “We all say a lot of things that we don’t know what we are talking about. I’m probably doing it now . . .”

I reminded him that it was he who had asked me to make a change in the book. His Aunt Mimi, who had brought him up, had somehow got hold of a manuscript and was maintaining that John had never stolen or sworn or had fights in his childhood – and she didn’t want any of that in the book. So I went to see her in Bournemouth and explained that that was John’s memory and I could not alter it. I took nothing out but calmed her down by adding a sentence at the end of the chapter on his childhood in which I quoted her saying: “John was as happy as the day was long.” The only sentence I did delete was one
John had asked me to remove – a disobliging remark about a man who later became the partner of his mother, Julia (John had called him “Twitchy”). Paul and Ringo had no objections but George did moan a bit, saying he wanted more written about his views on Hinduism and his spiritual beliefs. I refused to add any more, saying it would unbalance the biography.

When the book first came out, it was considered quite daring and revealing, especially in the US, where the New Yorker’s review said it “does not shy away from any mean and gritty little facts”. I had the Beatles using the word “fuck”, most unusual in a popular book at the time, and also included references to their use of LSD and to how Brian Epstein was a “gay bachelor”. While I was writing the book, homosexuality was still against the law but Brian, by this time, was dead and his mother, Queenie, was unaware of the new use of the word “gay”. I felt it was relevant, as it helped explain why Brian, a middle-class publicschool boy who liked Sibelius, was so fascinated by John. (John and Brian had a holiday abroad, just the two of them, during which, according to John, they’d had a one-night stand. I didn’t believe him, assuming he was just exaggerating for effect. I still don’t know whether it was true or not.)

I have to admit, though, that I didn’t mention groupies in the book or make any references to what happened in dressing rooms and hotel bedrooms in the UK and around the world. Should I have done? No one asked me at the time to omit such things. It was my decision. Three of the Beatles were married, happily as far as I could see, while Paul was engaged to Jane Asher. It seemed unfair to embarrass them by going into what had happened while they were touring, which they had now given up. Most people over the age of 25 in the 1960s were aware of what happened between rock stars and groupies. I felt no need to go into it.

A few years later, John was owning up about the orgies, to Wenner and others, and about what beasts they’d all been – the Beatles and most pop stars of the time and DJs, too – despite their lovely, if cheeky, image.

I recently discovered, for example, the origin of the phrase “I am the egg man”, used by John in the song “I Am the Walrus”. It seems it referred to another well-known singer of the time with whom John had indulged himself at the expense of groupies and whose speciality was giving drugs to young girls, stripping them naked, then breaking eggs over their bodies.

I suppose, looking back, that although I did reveal a few warts, on the whole I subscribed to the carefully cultivated image of the Beatles. Bullshit, or what?

“The Lennon Letters” edited by Hunter Davies is published by Weidenfeld & Nicolson (£25)

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 29 October 2012 issue of the New Statesman, Something Rotten

Getty
Show Hide image

The New Times: Brexit, globalisation, the crisis in Labour and the future of the left

With essays by David Miliband, Paul Mason, John Harris, Lisa Nandy, Vince Cable and more.

Once again the “new times” are associated with the ascendancy of the right. The financial crash of 2007-2008 – and the Great Recession and sovereign debt crises that were a consequence of it – were meant to have marked the end of an era of runaway “turbocapitalism”. It never came close to happening. The crash was a crisis of capitalism but not the crisis of capitalism. As Lenin observed, there is “no such thing as an absolutely hopeless situation” for capitalism, and so we discovered again. Instead, the greatest burden of the period of fiscal retrenchment that followed the crash was carried by the poorest in society, those most directly affected by austerity, and this in turn has contributed to a deepening distrust of elites and a wider crisis of governance.

Where are we now and in which direction are we heading?

Some of the contributors to this special issue believe that we have reached the end of the “neoliberal” era. I am more sceptical. In any event, the end of neoliberalism, however you define it, will not lead to a social-democratic revival: it looks as if, in many Western countries, we are entering an age in which centre-left parties cannot form ruling majorities, having leaked support to nationalists, populists and more radical alternatives.

Certainly the British Labour Party, riven by a war between its parliamentary representatives and much of its membership, is in a critical condition. At the same time, Jeremy Corbyn’s leadership has inspired a remarkable re-engagement with left-wing politics, even as his party slumps in the polls. His own views may seem frozen in time, but hundreds of thousands of people, many of them young graduates, have responded to his anti-austerity rhetoric, his candour and his shambolic, unspun style.

The EU referendum, in which as much as one-third of Labour supporters voted for Brexit, exposed another chasm in Labour – this time between educated metropolitan liberals and the more socially conservative white working class on whose loyalty the party has long depended. This no longer looks like a viable election-winning coalition, especially after the collapse of Labour in Scotland and the concomitant rise of nationalism in England.

In Marxism Today’s “New Times” issue of October 1988, Stuart Hall wrote: “The left seems not just displaced by Thatcherism, but disabled, flattened, becalmed by the very prospect of change; afraid of rooting itself in ‘the new’ and unable to make the leap of imagination required to engage the future.” Something similar could be said of the left today as it confronts Brexit, the disunities within the United Kingdom, and, in Theresa May, a prime minister who has indicated that she might be prepared to break with the orthodoxies of the past three decades.

The Labour leadership contest between Corbyn and Owen Smith was largely an exercise in nostalgia, both candidates seeking to revive policies that defined an era of mass production and working-class solidarity when Labour was strong. On matters such as immigration, digital disruption, the new gig economy or the power of networks, they had little to say. They proposed a politics of opposition – against austerity, against grammar schools. But what were they for? Neither man seemed capable of embracing the “leading edge of change” or of making the imaginative leap necessary to engage the future.

So is there a politics of the left that will allow us to ride with the currents of these turbulent “new times” and thus shape rather than be flattened by them? Over the next 34 pages 18 writers, offering many perspectives, attempt to answer this and related questions as they analyse the forces shaping a world in which power is shifting to the East, wars rage unchecked in the Middle East, refugees drown en masse in the Mediterranean, technology is outstripping our capacity to understand it, and globalisation begins to fragment.

— Jason Cowley, Editor 

Tom Kibasi on what the left fails to see

Philip Collins on why it's time for Labour to end its crisis

John Harris on why Labour is losing its heartland

Lisa Nandy on how Labour has been halted and hollowed out

David Runciman on networks and the digital revolution

John Gray on why the right, not the left, has grasped the new times

Mariana Mazzucato on why it's time for progressives to rethink capitalism

Robert Ford on why the left must reckon with the anger of those left behind

Ros Wynne-Jones on the people who need a Labour government most

Gary Gerstle on Corbyn, Sanders and the populist surge

Nick Pearce on why the left is haunted by the ghosts of the 1930s

Paul Mason on why the left must be ready to cause a commotion

Neal Lawson on what the new, 21st-century left needs now

Charles Leadbeater explains why we are all existentialists now

John Bew mourns the lost left

Marc Stears on why democracy is a long, hard, slow business

Vince Cable on how a financial crisis empowered the right

David Miliband on why the left needs to move forward, not back

This article first appeared in the 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times