ritrain

A short story by Michael A. Harling

What if the Beatles had never made it out of Liverpool? Would the Fab Four have played on for the simple love of the music? Or would the Lads have tired of playing here, there and everywhere to mostly empty seats? Was it Paul’s destiny to be an eggman, hawking the fragile orbs from a barrow in the marketplace? Perhaps George would have gone to work as a tax man? There’s little doubt John would have bounced from job-to-job, fixing a hole, doing it on the road. And it’s possible that Ringo would have gone on to fame and fortune as a movie star.

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It’s Tuesday, December 9th, a quarter of eight. You are listening to Radio 4.

That was, of course, the late Peter Noone, accompanied by Herman’s Hermits, performing “There’s a Kind of Hush All Over the World.” Joining us now by telephone from his home in Woolton, Liverpool, is John Lennon, leader of the Beatles, once considered the chief musical rivals of Mr. Noone’s Hermits.

Good morning, Mr. Lennon, thank you for joining us on this most somber of mornings. How are you?

I’m so bloody tired, if ya wanna know the truth. Me damn phone ain’t stopped ringg-ingg since the wee hours. And before that, me boy Jules and ‘eeze mates was rehearsin’. It was a cellarful of noise, t’was indeed. And then Mrs. Kite, me neighbour lady, is moanin’ away with some old git that ee’s the best she’s….

Yes, Mr. Len….

I sure didn’t get me golden slumbers last night, did I?

Mr. Lennon, you’ve heard the news today. What was your first thought when you learned Peter Noone had been shot to death in his adopted home of New York City?

Me first thought? There but by the good grace of God go I. But it’s a bleeding shame. Pete was a good bloke. You don’t ‘ave this in yer notes, but ‘im and me and me wife Cyn, was supposed to ‘ave dinner when Pete was in Liverpool next month. An’ ‘ee promised ‘eed take us up for a look-see ’round Liverpool in ‘is new private jet. Worst part of it all is that Pete was ‘opin’ to git back ‘ere as old Maggie Thatcher promised to lower taxes for the very rich, which, we all know, Pete was.

But then, things, they all ‘appen for a reason. If you go there and say shite on the telly about Americans, people will remember.

You’re referring…. [female voice interrupts]

Shush up, Cyn, can’t you see I’m on the phone…Yes, Radio 4.

[Female voice in background: Jules, put on Radio 4, Love….]

Sorry… as you was saying….

You mean Mr. Noone’s controversial declaration that Herman’s Hermits were more popular than the American quartet, the Monkees?

Yeah, and they was. But you don’t go to America and say that shite. You don’t tell’em you’re better than they is. America’s a very proud country. And they’ve got guns, lots ov’em… and a history of using ’em against us Brits.

You and Mr. Noone were, at one point in time, fierce rivals, reportedly almost coming to blows backstage on one occasion.

Almost? You know Pete was a pretty boy actor before he joined the ‘ermits as their singg-gger. When I ‘eard Pete and ‘is boys, it was bloody obvious they ‘ad nicked our sound… I just wanted ‘im to know that I knew.

Later, though, you collaborated with Mr. Noone and his Hermits. In fact, I believe, you became known as the secret Sixth Hermit, am I not correct?

Indeed I was, but six, seven or even a dozen ‘ermits can’t take a bad song and make it better. Look at a little number like “Mrs. Brown You’ve Got a Lovely Daughter.” The missus has a fine young bird who turns the bloke down, so ‘ee goes round to ‘ave a bit of a chat with ‘er mum. Pound to a penny, in ‘er day, mumsy, she was a real looker, oh yes she was. So, ‘ee shoulda been singg-ingg, “Mrs. Brown you’ve got a lovely figure” and then ‘avin’ a go with the old gal. That’s what a real rock ‘n’ roller woulda done.

Mr. Lennon, are you saying that Mr. Noone was not a real rock ‘n’ roller?

Bloody right I am. And every time I ‘ear ‘im on the radio or see ‘im on the telly, I git pissed, ‘cause me and me mate Paul, the two of us ‘ad some tunes that was better than any of the shite ‘erman’s ‘ermits ever put out. But the ‘ermits started the British Invasion of America, they’d been on the American telly and back ‘ere, Top of the Pops thought the sun rose and set on Pete and ‘is ganggg. Me an’ Paul sent in all of our best songs for more than a year, maybe two. But we was getting nowhere, man, so, me an’ Pauly just let it be.

You have previously said that Top of the Pops refused to play your music because they suspected the Beatles were Nazis.

We ‘ad records on the radio when we went to Germany. When we come back, the Beeb wouldn’t play us.

But isn’t it true that your band got caught smuggling a Nazi uniform into the country?

Oh… that was Ringo. ‘Ee fancied a part in a play at the local theatre. The wardrobe chap told ‘im if ‘ee got a uniform, ‘eed ‘ave the part. So, one night in ‘amburg, Ringo gets a bit drunk and starts goose-stepping around the Star-Club in his Brown Shirt. He gets arrested and then the London papers got photos of him with a black comb on his upper lip. When Ringo sobered up, ‘ee was right embarrassed. ‘Ee felt bloody terrible ’bout the whole mess, mainly ’cause the man who ‘ired Ringo, our manager Brian, um, Epstein, was ‘imself a person of the Jewish persuasion. And Ringo ‘ad to go see the magistrate in ‘amburg…..

And then?

We asked Pete Best to come back and play drums for us, but ee’d already taken a job with the government.

And the Beatles today? I see they’re opening for Gerry and the Pacemakers next month at the Cavern Club. The Beatles broke up in the early 1970s, when did you get back together?

I don’t know how that story started. We ‘ad a short break about 10 years ago when -Paul took up with Linda, ‘eeze American bird, but we’ve been playinggg together ever since. The Beatles are a good bit of fun, and we’d like to play more, but we never made more than a few extra quid from our music. We all got kids to feed, so we ‘ave regular jobs.

And what line of work is that?

Well, me mate Paul, ‘eeze an egg man and ‘eeze got a barrow at the marketplace. And believe it or not, ‘is Linda ‘as been singg-ingg with the band.

George is now a tax man with the Inland Revenue. And if I could ever get off the bleedin’ telephone, I’ve got eight days of work this week with the council in Lancashire, Blackburn, up near where Pete, Lord rest his soul, was born. In the same area where ‘im and Yoko wanted to build a 30- or 40-room mansion so they could watch their cows grazin’ when Pete retired. The council there ‘ired me to count the ‘oles. They’re mostly small, but I imagine there’s about 4,000 ov’em, and I’ve got to count’em all, each and every one ov’em.

And your drummer, ‘Mr., ah, Mr. Starkey?

Ya mean Ringo? Well, they put ‘im in the movies, and now ‘eeze the most famous one of us all….

Thank you, Mr. Lennon.

We’ve been speaking with John Lennon of the Beatles. Tickets are still available for the Beatles and Gerry and the Pacemakers at the Cavern Club on the 16th and 17th of next month.

You are listening to Radio 4.

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Dedicated to the memory of Derek Anderson.

Special thanks to Rob Howatson and Wiesia Kujawa for their critical readings and invaluable suggestions.