The Beatles began 1963 in relative obscurity, and ended it the most famous group in the country. Within another six weeks, they were the most famous group in the world.
As we have seen, at the start of 1963 they were just another jobbing pop group. Their first single, ‘Love Me Do’, had peaked at number 17. Their first concert of 1963 was presented by the Elgin Folk Music Club at the Two Red Shoes Ballroom in Elgin, Scotland, and was attended by two hundred people. Driving in their van from Elgin to the town hall in Dingwall, they were so cold that they lay on top of one another to keep warm. ‘When the one on top got so cold that hypothermia was setting in, it would be his turn to get on the bottom,’ recalled Paul. ‘We’d warm each other up that way.’
At the time, plenty of other British acts – Adam Faith, Mark Wynter, Jet Harris, and of course Cliff Richard and the Shadows – were doing much, much better.
But when success finally came, it came as a landslide, flattening those ahead. Bands and singers who a few months before might have agreed with some reluctance to employ the Beatles as their warm-up act now found themselves in the humiliating position of opening for them. Within the space of five days in September 1963 they were presented with the Top Vocal Group of the Year award at the Savoy Hotel and headed the bill of The Great Pop Prom at the Royal Albert Hall. Meanwhile, ‘She Loves You’ was at number 1 in the charts. As they stood in their smart new suits at the top of the steps behind the Albert Hall, Paul felt the sunshine on his face. ‘We looked at each other, and we were thinking, “This is it! London! The Albert Hall!” We felt like gods! We felt like fucking gods!’
And this was just the beginning. In October, their appearance on Sunday Night at the London Palladium attracted fifteen million viewers. On 4 November they played the Royal Command Performance. Later that month their new single, ‘I Want to Hold Your Hand’, sold a million copies in the UK before it had even been released – roughly one copy for every fifty people in the country.
By the end of 1964 they had become the most famous young men on earth. In Madame Tussauds, their wax effigies took their place alongside world leaders, mass murderers and members of the royal family. In West Bridgford, Nottinghamshire, four brainy pupils of the Becket Grammar School closed their school concert with a spirited rendition of ‘From Me to You’ in Latin.1 The students of Leeds University elected Ringo Starr their vice-president in preference to a former Lord Chief Justice. Visiting the EMI studios, Sir Malcolm Sargent, the most celebrated British conductor of the day, asked George Martin if he might effect an introduction (‘Chaps, Sir Malcolm would like to say “Hello”’).
Everyone wanted to meet them. In Hollywood, top movie stars – Edward G. Robinson, Dean Martin, Lloyd Bridges, Kirk Douglas, Shelley Winters, Jack Palance, Jack Lemmon – donated money to charity in order to queue for their autographs. In exile in France, the Duchess of Windsor sang their songs to herself. ‘Oh, the Beatles. Don’t you just love ’em?’ she said to the up-and-coming young interior designer Nicky Haslam, over on a visit. ‘“I give her all my love, that’s all I do-ooo!” Adore ’em. Do you know them? Oh, you are lucky!’
Where did this leave their rivals? For groups like Peter Jay and the Jaywalkers, it must have been hard to stomach. A year before, the Beatles had looked up to them. From the back of the hall, George would gaze at the Jaywalkers as they set up their flashing coloured lights, their flashing drum kit and their exploding cymbals, and he would think of them as ‘real big shots’. But now those days were past.
Groups that just a short time before had been on level pegging now found it impossible to keep up. The Hollies had formed in 1962, and were having hits by 1963, but by 1964 their achievements seemed minuscule beside the Beatles’. It’s not hard to spot a note of resentment in Graham Nash’s reminiscences, published half a century later:
In those days, tweaking a Beatle was like blaspheming the pope. But who the fuck cared? I was getting sick and tired of their holy status, the way they said whatever was on their minds, no matter whom it affected, right or wrong. All of London was in their thrall. And if you didn’t know Popes John or Paul, or at least drop their names in conversation, you might as well take the next train back to the provinces, over and out. Keith Richards said it best in Life: ‘The Beatles are all over the place like a fucking bag of fleas.’ They were a great band and I loved their records. Every English group owed them a huge debt, but I had no intention of kissing their asses. Besides, last I looked, the Hollies were holding down places on the same top 10 as the Beatles, so pardon me if you don’t like our fucking record but keep it to yourself, if you please.
1 ‘A Me ad Vos’.