Looking through the mists that shroud the emergence of the Fabs, one reaches an inescapable conclusion. Once they picked up their guitars, fate - ignoring Life's many diversions - seemed to grind an inexorable path to their destiny. John's words are strangely prophetic. "Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans."

On two occasions Lennon was within seconds of leaving England, possibly for ever. When he was only five his Father Fred - the original wanderer - took him to Blackpool on the pretext of a day out. However Fred - estranged from John's Mother Julia - had no intention of bringing his son back to his Sister-in-law Mimi.

The outing turned into a fortnight, during which time Fred made arrangements for them to emigrate to New Zealand. Then Julia arrived to get John back. Fred asked her to go with them but she refused. It was left to John to decide whom he wished to stay with.

At first he chose his Father, but when Julia left he ran down the street after her. The next time Fred heard of John, he was famous. However John must have inherited his Father's wanderlust. He was only sixteen when he and Nigel Whalley tried to run away to sea as stewards. Aunt Mimi was alerted only at the last moment by an alert Union official checking his age. 

After Paul demonstrated his talents to the Quarrymen at the Woolton show, it was two weeks before John invited him to join. Lennon was concerned about the threat to his supremacy. After much thought, he felt Paul's ability to tune a guitar and "He looked a bit like Elvis" were the deciding factors. Karma smiled, having again spun its magical web.
   
George's early enthusiasm for the guitar quickly waned. Hands cut to shreds, he threw it into a cupboard for over three months. Thankfully for posterity and Beatle fans he resumed, due in no small part to his Mum's gentle persuasion.

One sunny morning he was playing `Raunchy' on the bus going to school. Sitting behind was an extremely impressed Paul. Soon after, Paul took him to meet the Quarrymen. Nervously, George played a few numbers but John wasn't that convinced. "Besides he looks too young." George persevered however and followed the Quarrymen around, jamming with them until John finally accepted him.

John, Paul and George didn't get much encouragement from outsiders in the early days. They would often practise for hours in the garden at Paul's house in Forthlin Road. Angry neighbours hurled lumps of coal, shoes, fruit, even a cat, `requesting them to desist.' Choirmasters endorsed this opinion. John was thrown out by St. Peters albeit for skylarking. But he was lucky. Paul couldn't even get in the Cathedral choir.

John was allegedly a handful at school yet his report read. "Lennon is fairly responsible. Could go far." Uh huh!! Rock fans at Wilson Hall on the outskirts of Liverpool, didn't seem to appreciate the Quarrymen either. The promoter ran a talent contest offering a winners prize of £2.  He would charge each band member 10 pence (15 cents) for admission to the hall.  As a rule there would be around 12 groups competing with 4 or 5 members each.  You figure it out.  He's make a cool profit....and filled the hall with bands playing for nix.  And their fans!!!  A pretty cute move.....right?

One night Paul and John were outside counting their pennies and debating whether to enter the contest. Paul finally convinced John they'd win anyway. They came in second!! To be fair they never stood a chance, being beaten by Nicky Cuff and the Sunnysiders. Who!?? Nicky was a midget and had to stand on his tea-chest bass to play. This particular night he lost his footing and fell inside, gaining even more votes. From then on he kept the tumble in the act and a few months later again beat the Quarrymen in a national contest. Our heroes should have listened to the old maxim. Never perform with children.....or midgets.

(3) The Fabulous Intervention of Fate: George Martin & Ed Sullivan

Another bizarre rung in the Beatle ladder to success was the formation of their unique sound. But was it theirs, or did Rory Storm play an inadvertent part in its evolution? The night the Beatles made their debut for me I had already advertised the accentuated bass drum beat as "Rory Storm and the `Atom Beat' Hurricanes." And don't forget Ringo was their drummer. It was no coincidence. When I asked both groups how they had developed this crashing noise, it turned out to be exactly that.

Only a few months earlier the two groups had been appearing at the Kaiserkeller. The ancient stage was rotting and the owner refused to build a new one. John and Rory decided otherwise and had a bet on who could crash through the boards first. At some point in each number everyone stamped like mad, pretending it was part of the act. And that was the birth of Merseybeat. Luck or destiny?? Call it what you will the Beatles had it all going for them. And why not? Talent such as theirs comes but once in a Millennium. And that's a bloody long time!!

Who was Eleanor Rigby?? In late Summer 1982, a friend Kenneth `Dollar' Doyle, rang me relating a rumour that Eleanor Rigby's gravestone had just been discovered at St Peter's Church Woolton. Yes you're right. That's where John and Paul first met and in whose Choir the young Lennon larked about, singing only when he felt the urge. Dollar hadn't seen the grave so only supplied sketchy instructions of its location. My Son and I went on our quest without success. After two hours in the drizzling rain, we gave up thinking it was another hoax. The existence of Eleanor's grave had been a subject of discussion for years. However Dollar had seemed positive and so we returned next day.

To my surprise the Curate gave us precise details. When I finally found it, I felt like Ryder Haggard's hero discovering `King Solomon's mines.' Taking her birth date from the stone, I made enquiries in the Church records. It was quite creepy in the crypt but I was pleasantly surprised to find - unlike Paul's character - she had in fact married. Eleanor died before any Beatles saw the light of day, but the Rigbys were a well known local family. Could Paul have been influenced sub-consciously??

The first edition of my magazine `Follow the Merseybeat Road' was due for printing that very day. I've always wanted to shout `Hold the Press' and I did. The piece on Eleanor was published next day, beating the Daily Sun's `Worldwide scoop' only by a matter of two years. Later Paul gave my booklet the thumbs up but wrote saying he `couldn't quite agree on the Eleanor Rigby piece.' Okay Paul that'll do for me, you're not `quite' certain. Seriously, I believe his version of how he arrived at her name. But doesn't it make you wonder??

What about Ringo?! `What about Ringo?' I can hear his fans screaming. Was he just a lucky lad who caught the last bus? Or did he deserve his big break? Ritchie was a star on the Merseybeat scene long before Pete Best became a Beatle. Lucky he may have been, but he'd well paid his dues. I firmly believe he was a latent Beatle for years without realising it. Ringo supplied an element of `Chaplinesque' that the Beatles badly needed. And he was a far better drummer!!! Whilst Pete had a rugged look that girls liked, he was never a `Beatle.' When asked to adopt their `mophead' hairstyle he refused. If they were invited to parties, Pete usually opted out. Whereas Ringo suited their madcap ways of never taking themselves too seriously.

Here's a Ringo story no-one has heard. When he was in the Clayton Squares, he always wore snappy and colourful waistcoats. One night they were playing at the Red Triangle Karate Club in Everton Road, Liverpool. Of all places to choose, a gang from St Helens started lumber. As you would expect the members sorted them out without much fuss. Ringo was standing on the club steps chatting to John Peverall, a friend of mine, when the Police arrived. A burly Sergeant, seeing Ritchie's sideburns and yellow waistcoat, thought he was a teddy boy. Without further ado, he grabbed Ringo and flung him down the stone steps breaking his nose. Its never been quite the same.

Ritchie and I had a private whistle we used if we `copped off' with any girls. One night he's playing with Rory at the Orrell Park Ballroom. During his special `Starr time' spot, he was in the middle of `Hit the Road Jack' when I put my arm around his girl-friend, giving him our whistle. He missed his beat and flung a drum-stick at me. Needless to say I ducked. The stick smacked into the gob of a 6'6" behemoth, dancing with this gorgeous little five footer.

Pounding his chest, King Kong grabbed Rory by the throat, intending to inflict serious facial modifications. Rory's stammer worsened as he tried to explain why he didn't use drum-sticks. Kong got fed up waiting and discarded Rory, looking for the drummer instead. Ringo had finished his spot halfway through, vacating the stage at something approaching the speed of light. Then someone nudged me in the ribs. Shaking with laughter - and no doubt a little fear - Ritchie was hiding behind me, hands covering his bootlace tie. Searching in vain for his drum-stick, he had the nerve to expect me to buy him a new one. I told him Kong had probably eaten it and he should ask him.

Let's take an imaginary `Mystery Tour' through the thought processes of the Beatles which may have led to those magical lyrics. But remember this is conjecture on my part. Perhaps you could let me have your own thoughts on this. Although the Beatles became mega-stars, feted wherever they went, they never lost touch with reality. This was never more evident than in the lyrics of `Eleanor Rigby' which paint such compelling scenes. "Ah, look at all the lonely people, where do they all belong?" One can picture them looking perplexedly through the darkened windows of a limousine, watching Christmas shoppers scurrying by. Contrast that with the sadness of the lonely spinster. "Picking up the rice after the wedding has gone." And Father McKenzie darning his socks....

Another song which hits me hard is `She's leaving Home.' This reminds me of my Daughter Debbie's Wedding Day. That night when she left with her Husband, she took part of me with her. Putting the radio on later, you know what was playing, right!? Although all my children live within two hundred yards it's still a wrench when they fly the coup. The Beatle lyrics did much to bridge the generation gap. But I have to tell you `rap' music, Vanila Ice and Iced Tea are widening it again. Especially if you've got an arthritic hip.

Ironically, it involved the Beatles when they made their debut for me on `Valentine's Night' Feb 14th 1961. Naturally they topped the bill, supported by The Big Three, Rory Storm's `Atom Beat' Hurricanes and Mark Peter's and the Cyclones. Did you notice I'd named our sound "The Atom Beat?" Okay. I hold my hands up. Merseybeat was better. But it proves I'd already realised we had something unique. When The Beatles went on stage the applause was deafening. This was their first appearance in the City Centre. Afterwards Rory Storm joked. "They went down a Storm."

Halfway through the set George played an instrumental. The tranquillising and nostalgic `Moonglow.' Picture the scene. Lovers doing `The Creep' as they gazed into each other's eyes. George, biting his lip as he picked out the extremely difficult chords that produce those piquant notes. Enter stage right. Nosey Sam Leach. I'd noticed Stuart was still turning his back to the audience. I didn't realise he was shy and still learning. Slipping onto the rear of the bandstand, I asked him nicely. "Will you bloody well turn around. And smile dammit!!" Leaning over the Piano Lennon asked...just as politely. "Shut yer big gob Leachy. George is doing the hard bit." Somewhat abashed I looked for an excuse to be on stage. I noticed Stu's guitar wasn't plugged in to his amplifier. Replacing it, I turned up the volume. The dancers - smooching in a world of their own - jumped out of their skins as a discordant racket almost blew the tiny Amplifier apart.

It sounded as if a herd of Cats were being run over by a 10 ton Truck. Which was then reversing back over them. Hands were hastily clapped over ears, except for George who - deep in pained concentration - kept playing doggedly. Recovering his composure Paul leapt across and dragged Stu's lead out, whispering harshly. "Why did you do that? You know he can't bloody well play." Unfortunately, Paul's stage whisper came out over the entire speaker system. Lovers on the dance floor fell about laughing. I searched for the nearest hole. Raising his eyes to Heaven, Lennon gave a sly little smirk. Shooting a baleful glare in my direction, George started again. Pete resumed his Gum chewing. Stu was even more embarrassed than I and needless to say, that made me feel worse.

After the set was over it took all my powers of persuasion to convince him he was making excellent progress. Especially when one considered the short time he'd been playing. Everyone has to learn the hard way and I told him about my own humiliation trying to play the drums behind Lonnie Donegan. Stu cheered up at once. Then the cheeky sod asked why hadn't I taken my own advice. He admitted he got by on base guitar only by leaving out half the notes. I explained that was the essence of good Bass playing. Which by the way is quite true. I'd like to think that helped him a little. One of life's gentle people, the shy Stuart Sutcliffe only felt confident when he held a paint brush in his supremely talented hand. Yet - with his avant-garde attitude to Life - he wielded tremendous influence on the Beatles. Lennon only had three heroes. Elvis, Chuck Berry and Stuart.

As you could imagine my nose was put out of joint by the unfortunate - for me that is - arrival of Brian Epstein. The first time I became aware of him was shortly after the Aldershot `Safari.' Paul and John had left an urgent message for me to meet them at the Grapes Pub in Mathew Street around the corner from NEMS.....Brian's headquarters. Ultimately he would be my nemesis. When I strolled in - unaware my plans for the Beatles were about to go up in smoke - Paul and John looked a little uneasy to put it mildly. Stammering, Paul told me. "Sam there's this Millionaire wants to manage us. We know we have a handshake agreement and we're doing a record with you. BUT HE'S A MILLIONAIRE."

Dumbfounded I looked at them both. John in particular avoided my penetrating glare. Regaining what little composure nature has blessed me with, I replied a little truculently. "Y'what?? What are you bloody idiots talking about." Taking it in turn they told me about this `Eppy fella who owned a chain of shops and would I go check him out?....Please.' My gast was completely flabbered and I found myself agreeing to meet this interfering Epstein and give them an honest opinion about him. Making an appointment, I turned up at Brian's office next day hoping against hope he would prove to be a `phoney.' I hadn't been taken in by Paul claiming Eppy was a Millionaire.

In those days that could merely mean he had a car - taxed, insured and with petrol in it. I was ushered into his office and immediately I saw the extremely nervous ex-public schoolboy I relaxed. There was no way such an innocuous person could manage the Beatles!!! Surely he wouldn't possess the `street level smarts' needed to manage such a volatile group. Sounding more like a future Father-in-Law, I asked Brian what his intentions were. His enthusiasm was obvious as he outlined his plans to further the Beatles career. Ten minutes later we shook hands and I knew the race was over. Brian had the determination - and more importantly the finance - to get them away. Although painfully aware I was about to miss out, I had no choice. I duly reported back to John, Paul and George who were waiting in the Grapes. "He's your man. Remember me when you get to the top." A relieved Lennon promised. "You'll be with us. We'll get him to back the record." I'm certain John meant it at the time but as he would subsequently write. "Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans." You may have read in Ray Coleman's biography "Epstein" Brian and I became bitter rivals, not personally but in business. In fact his rancour surfaced long before I realised.

But in those early days he was content to give the impression of a newcomer eager to learn. He sought advice from everyone on the scene, including fans. Ironically, the first official booking he organised for the Beatles was with me at the Thistle Cafe, West Kirkby on February 1st 1962. That was also the night he faced his first problem. And almost blew it!! John Lennon had a bad attack of Laryngitis and for the only time in his entire career was forced to cry off. Brian was distraught and offered to pay my losses if I called off the show. I'd never cancelled before and I wasn't doing it tonight. Angry at his negative attitude I told him off. "Brian, don't give up so easily. Fans are coming from miles away and we're not letting them down. Anyway there's no problem. I'll get Rory Storm to stand in." Rory was only too delighted to oblige and somewhat dubiously Eppy picked him up.

As I anticipated Rory was brilliant and got a tremendous ovation, even from Lennon fans. That night Eppy learned the first law of `Showbiz.' For the next few months he listened to anyone who had an opinion or good advice to render. My contribution was in getting him to reduce the Beatles spots from over an hour - which included smoking and chatting - to 45 minutes non-stop pulsating aggression. This resulted in an even more dynamic show which left their audiences breathless. And me!! Then the `worm turned.' Suddenly, Eppy wanted £70 a night for the Beatles, a 100% increase. New Brighton Tower was the biggest venue on Merseyside and I'd always paid them £30 a night. Twice as much as anyone else, including the Cavern. With my having such big overheads he simply wasn't on. This called for some `street smarts.' As a compromise I offered him £10  extra and suggested he tell the other promoters I was paying him £70. If they asked I'd `confirm' it. This satisfied Brian immensely. And no doubt the Beatles. Eppy continued to learn and gradually steered the Beatles towards their destiny. Step by step he transformed their slightly unkempt stage appearance and improved their equipment

He seemed determined to assimilate every facet of the Beatles existence. In an effort to find what made them tick, he even joined them in rambustious trips to the Bowling Alley. One night Brian, John, Paul and I went on a pub crawl. Around normal closing time Paul was `pissed' out of his skull so we shoved him into a taxi and sent him home. I took John and Brian to a famous late night club where we stayed until well after three. Brian was puzzled that the Police allowed the place to stay open after hours. I introduced him to a Detective on the next table and the penny dropped. Eppy was driving, so he didn't have too many drinks. Around four in the morning he dropped me at my house and I invited him and John in for a Coffee.

The Beatles had no booking that weekend and Brian was trying to persuade John to accompany him to Amsterdam. In those days few of us knew about homosexuals and - innocent that I was - I advised John to go. As we sat around the table drinking the mud that I called coffee, Lennon suddenly kicked me in the shins. Looking at his bleary eyes, I figured he was well `tanked up' and so I ignored it. Eppy continued to extol Amsterdam's `virtues' and again I said John should go and enjoy himself. This time his kick drew blood and I glared at him angrily. At that moment Brian excused himself to go for a wee. When he left the room, I reached across the table and grabbed John by the throat, hissing. "Whaddayouplayingat Lennon??" Doubled up with laughter, John gasped. "You bloody fool. Can't you see he's after me." If anyone ever had a blank expression on their face, I must have had one then. My befuddled brain struggled to grasp what Lennon meant by Eppy being `after him.' I nodded sagely. "Oh, I see." Needless to say I didn't but I wasn't admitting it to a drunk. When Brian returned for the sake of my battered limbs I `reminded' John. "Rory's getting engaged on Saturday. We're invited so Amsterdam is out." Lennon didn't help this lie when he replied. "Is Rory getting engaged again?" Clearly disappointed, Brian dropped the subject.

At that weekend's party, I collared John and asked him what he'd been on about. Hooting with laughter, Lennon told the gathering what had happened. And also that I didn't know what he'd meant. Bloody sod. The next time I took my Tower publicity material to NEMS it was an embarrassed Epstein who asked if John had said anything bad about him. His relief was obvious when I lied. "No. And why should he?" Eppy's shirts and ties were immaculate and previously I'd ask where he bought them, much to his blushing gratification. But from then on I found my own.

Yet at my engagement party soon after, he pursued my future Wife's sister Vera Brown, with such determination it was hard to believe all the rumours. We continued to co-operate in furthering the Beatles career and he was appreciative of my extensive advertising campaigns. Especially when I referred to them as the North's top group. Some months later Paul dropped into the Grapes Pub and told me. "Eppy wants a chat. And he said its very important." I groaned. "He's not after more money is he?" Paul shrugged, no doubt hoping I'd guessed right. For once I asked Eppy to meet in my `office' - the Kardomah coffee shop opposite NEMS. Judging by his nervous manner, Brian obviously had something serious to discuss. After some small talk he asked to go into partnership on my Friday night shows at the Tower. I had worked hard for many months, developing Fridays to an average attendance of 2,000. Inwardly I felt he had a nerve expecting to be cut in. Then he explained he wanted to present big names there with the Beatles as support, thus giving them great exposure and experience. Thinking it over, I saw a secondary advantage. If I allowed him to finance my future shows and they were successful - which was to be expected - he might then back my record label. I nodded cautiously. "Okay Brian we'll give it a try. You put the money up and I'll do the promoting. We'll split the profits fifty-fifty." To my astonishment he shook his head. "No that won't do. My Brother and I are partners in NEMS Enterprises. You can only have a third." I was dumbfounded. Now Eppy was offering me a third of my own thing. What cheek.

Seeing the funny side I retorted. "There's no deal then Brian. I've got partners too. My Wife, Daughter, Mother-in-Law, a dog and a cat. You can have an eighth." Thereby ending the discussion. I was lying anyway. We didn't have a cat. Flushing deeply, Epstein stood up, we shook hands and the meet was over. However, glaring at me balefully, he warned. "You're making a big mistake." A few months later, I had reason to recall that ominous threat. Little did I realise, I'd made a rod for my own back. Recently I was studying Ray Coleman's definitive book on Brian and discovered something I'd overlooked all these years. Reading between the lines, it seemed that Eppy may well have been offering me a third of NEMS Enterprises, the company he'd formed to manage the Beatles. Ouch!!! I just kicked myself. 30 years late.

Although I have no regrets, I'd raced through a crossroads in my Life. If that abortive meeting had gone the other way, we would have presented some truly memorable shows. Then it was a natural progression to launch our own record label. My original vision of the Beatles doing `Twist and Shout' might have been realised. Especially after the initial rejections by EMI and Decca. Fortunately for posterity - if not me - that wasn't to be. Brian and the Beatles took the route that fate had mapped out for them. Otherwise they might have been diverted down `A long and winding road' that led to `Nowhere Man.' Enough of my speculation on what might have been. Lets get back to what actually happened. Word spread around the beat scene that I'd turned down the `Nemperor.' It was therefore a `miffed' Epstein who approached Allan Williams and Bob Wooler to present rival Thursday shows. Allan soon dropped out describing the relationship bitterly. "Eppy wanted a dog and then barked himself." Bob Wooler - desperate to get a foothold in the Tower - eagerly accepted Brian's offer of 10% of the profits. Which turned out to be sweet nothing. With the Tower company refusing to give Friday nights to anyone but me, Epstein was forced to promote on Thursdays instead. Especially as the Tower had `persuaded' me to manage the ballroom for them. Using Bob Wooler as a front, he presented Jerry Lee Lewis on 17th May and Joe Brown on 27th July. Both flopped financially, having no adverse effect on my shows. Despite being a disaster, the Jerry Lee Lewis show was a memorable night for me. I'll explain why in the chapter `Twisting at the Tower.' However Epstein's abortive promotions were the `thin edge of the wedge.' A ruthless streak surfaced as he made other moves to work me out of the Tower. And the Beatles future.

Yet Brian was a paradox. Although he now saw me as a business obstacle, on a personal level we remained friendly. Proof of this lay in the following memo he sent to the Beatles on Friday 29th June `62. "Tower Ballroom, New Brighton. Neil will call for you between 6.45 and 7.00pm in order to arrive at the Tower at 7.30pm. This is a Leach night for which he has given you excellent publicity as stars of the Bill. With this point in mind and the fact that he has been fairly co-operative over several matters recently I would like you to give him one of your great performances. And as its the night before Sam's wedding! It should be a big audience which will be mainly paying to see The Beatles. Sadly at the Wedding reception the next day, Ted Knibbs unwittingly hammered in the last spike in both our relationships with Eppy. Ted - who had managed Billy Kramer's career brilliantly - was undoubtedly the nicest person on our scene. He made a complimentary speech to Joan and I during which he said. "Sam is still the top man on the Merseybeat scene." Dolly, my Mother-in-law, told me later that she noticed Brian who had been full of life, flushed bright red and became very quiet. Soon after he made his excuses and left. Dolly who was something of a psychic warned me. "You've made an enemy. Watch him." I should have listened. Suddenly Eppy cancelled three Beatle bookings, with only a vague excuse. At the time I wasn't too concerned as Summer was always dodgy for promoting. Nonetheless I complained to John and Paul who liked playing for me. With their support I nailed Brian down to a series of six bookings from August 17th to September 7th. Thanking them, I decided to hold a `Beatle Festival.' Three shows at the Tower, two at the Majestic and one at the Rialto, Toxteth. Aware the Beatles were about to release a record and go national, I distributed 1000 posters and 5000 handbills around Merseyside.

This used up what little money I had saved. Then on August 16th the scene erupted. Pete Best was sacked. The news hit Liverpool like a bombshell. Pete Best fans, blaming Brian unfairly, tried to attack him at the Cavern. In the ensuing melee, George received a black eye. Due to the threat of violence, fans stayed away in droves. Needless to say attendances at my Beatle Festival were severely reduced. When I asked Eppy why he hadn't warned me, he merely shrugged. "What can I do? It's your problem. Cancel the bookings if you wish." However it takes more than the sacking of a Beatle to stop me. Working even harder, I managed to more or less break even on the first four shows. Whether or not I would recoup the money spent advertising depended on the Rialto and the Tower. Then the malicious rumours began. The Beatles were told a Toxteth gang were going to beat them up at the Rialto because of the Pete Best affair. Not for the first time, someone from the Cavern also spread it around they didn't want to play for me. No, it wasn't Eppy. I was concerned there might be some truth in the threat to the Beatles. Therefore I asked an old friend Alan Tanner, the famous boxer, to check it out with the local hardcases. Alan assured me everyone was looking forward to seeing the Beatles perform and there would be no trouble. Brian, the Beatles and I met to discuss the problem. Eppy was dead against them appearing but John asked me how I felt. I convinced him they would be okay and guaranteed they would each have two minders as back-up, even Brian. Paul and John looked at each other and nodded their approval. However, the `Nemperor' was livid at being over-ruled. Unfortunately Pete Best's sacking and the damage caused by gossipers resulted in another disastrous attendance. But of more concern to me, the Beatles were given a great reception. Much to their delight. I stayed at their side all through the set. At one point John shouted to Eppy. "I told you Sam would look after us, didn't I." Much to my delight of course. Then I made a stupid error. The Beatles were on last so I had paid the other three groups first. All that was left in the till was £11, which left me £19 short on their fee. I wasn't too worried because I could pay the balance the following night at the Tower. That is until Eppy's other `self' surfaced. Although the Beatles weren't bothered, he caused a scene in the dressing room, which I felt was intended to embarrass me.

This rebounded on him as John merely laughed and remarked. "Sam's okay. He'll pay us tomorrow night. Won't you Leachy?" Trying to defuse the situation, John clenched a mock fist in my direction. This `other' Epstein wouldn't budge however and asked me to come to his office the next morning. Seeing my concern, Paul pulled me aside. "Don't worry Sam. We'll sort things out with Brian on the way home." Next day I called into the Whitechapel shop and before seeing Eppy, made a beeline for the ticket agency. To my shame the girl haltingly told me Brian had withdrawn the Tower Tickets and she was to tell the fans the Beatles wouldn't be appearing. Dazedly, I went up to his office unable to believe this nightmare was real. Epstein's stance had hardened overnight. He demanded the £19 forthwith or the Beatles wouldn't be playing. Delighting at my predicament, he also refused to re-open the ticket agency, even though it normally took a minimum of £30. He was unconcerned at sabotaging the show and disappointing the fans, many of whom traveled miles to see the Beatles. Clearly this egomaniac was out to assert his authority and to hell with anyone else. Even as I left the shop, two fans were turned away. I was too embarrassed to explain and avoided their puzzled gaze. At lunchtime I told Paul what had transpired and - being the good lad he is - he went to argue my case with Eppy. To my delight Paul's diplomacy worked and Epstein brought them over. Albeit with a `gob' on him. Once again the rumours emanating from the Cavern management and the unrest over Pete Best hit the attendance hard. However it looked as though I'd scrape through and be able to pay everyone including the Beatles. At nine o'clock I had paid the rent, the staff and the other groups. To Paul's relief I offered Eppy the £19 due from the Rialto.

I'll swear he was disappointed. This suspicion was borne out when he refused the money saying. "I also want tonight's fee of £35 before they go on. That's £54 in pound notes. Right now." Epstein knew the latecomers after 10pm would easily take care of that night's fee. Despite pleas from Paul, John and his brother Clive, Eppy wouldn't budge. Paul offered his share of the fee but to no avail. Then a report came that Ringo - clowning as usual - was walking around with a placard which said. "No pay - no play." The `joke' back-fired. On me. People began asking for their money back, causing chaos at the pay box. Yet again Paul and John showed their support by telling them. "Hold on, we'll still be playing." Enraged at what he perceived to be another threat to his authority Brian gave the Beatles an ultimatum. "You went against me last night at the Rialto. Do it again and its all over with us." The clamour in the pay-box ended abruptly as we realised what Brian had just said. The Beatles had supported me but now their future was on the line. Ordering Eppy to leave I said. "Lads, you've got to obey your manager. But thanks for trying." Smirking triumphantly Epstein ushered the Beatles out of my life. He had finally severed my close relationship with them. Eppy clearly hoped this would force me to relinquish my Friday night concession at the Tower. He had under-estimated my determination. Even though I knew it was `mission impossible'

I began to look for big names to replace the Beatles. And they didn't come bigger than Little Richard. I rang the Don Arden agency in London and eventually they confirmed the `King of Rock' would appear for a fee of £350. Putting the phone down, I did a jig of elation in the street, much to the alarm of passers-by. However my delight was to be short lived. I made the stupid mistake of advertising my `coup' in the Echo - before receiving the contract!! The news that Little Richard was coming to the Tower electrified Liverpool. And sent the `Nemperor' hopping mad. Well he would be wouldn't he?? Even as an over-whelmed Derry Wilkie came to the Tower to shake my hand, a fuming Epstein was phoning Don Arden, telling him I had no money. These low tactics didn't work at first, but Epstein eventually gazumped me by offering £500. Such an exorbitant fee wasn't viable, but Epstein was hell-bent on retaining his self-styled position as `Nemperor of Merseyside.' A few days later I gave up my Tower franchise in protest at their lack of support against his unethical methods. Epstein tried to make the show profitable by doubling admission charges. Consequently the event was a financial disaster with only 1200 people attending.

Okay, I hold my hand up and admit. I was `chuffed.' But to my disappointment Little Richard seemed lethargic and his dance routines `square.' The funniest part of the night was when - to the crowds delight if not Little Richard's - an inspired Derry Wilkie jumped onstage and joined his hero in `What'd I Say.' Derry even showed the subdued `King' how to `bop.' Naturally, The Beatles stole the show. This became a regular occurrence no matter whom the advertised `Star.' Just as I had predicted almost two years before. Proudly I applauded as loudly as anyone when they finished their set. As they left the stage Paul gave me a thumbs up and John winked. Dolly's warning and Eppy's flushed cheeks when I refused to bring him in on the Tower came to mind, albeit too late. It was impossible to forget Epstein's harsh treatment of me in our business struggles.

But as a totally committed Beatle fan he was second to none. As my Wife Joan and I walked away from the Tower that night, she muttered. "You're better off without them. Brian Epstein hasn't got a clue about Rock'n'Roll." Although Eppy was to prove the most successful entrepreneur of all time, Joan's opinion was confirmed the next time I saw him and Paul at the Empire theatre six months later. `Please, Please Me' had become their first `No I' and I suggested their next record should be `Twist and Shout.' Brian scoffed saying. "That isn't commercial enough." Paul looked suitably embarrassed and gave me a wink. Years later, when `Beatles On Broadway' was released, the first cheque I sent from the royalties was to NEMS for £19. Although Eppy had cost me money at that fateful final booking that never was, I felt it was a personal debt to the Beatles. Brian wrote back. "It really wasn't necessary but I appreciate it was important to you. My boys send you their kind regards in return." Whose boys? Not his.....or mine. They now belonged to their fans. That sentiment was proven when the Beatles returned to Liverpool in triumph for the premiere of `Hard day's Night.' Eppy sent complimentary tickets for Dolly, Joan and I. The Beatles had been worried that having been `AWOL' Liverpool might turn its back on them. Fancy them thinking that. Over a million turned out to welcome them back. Fans from Wales - including Tom Jones - were pretending to be scousers. Standing in the foyer, I admit there was `something in my eye' as the crowd's roars heralded their approach. Suddenly the side doors flew open and in the ensuing bedlam I saw George and Ringo being rushed in by their `minders.' George gave a quick wave saying "Look, there's Sam." And then they were whisked upstairs.

Up in the Circle we were seated just behind the four ordinary lads who had turned an unsuspecting World on its ear. Just before the Film started, I managed a few words with Paul. He grinned with delight when I asked. "What have you been doing these last few years? Can you play Knotty Ash Hall Friday?? But don't tell Eppy!!" Paul grinned. "I wish we could. Its been lunacy. No-one hears a word we sing anymore." At that moment Brian turned and chuckled. "I heard that Sam. Money up front of course?" Animosity shelved, Brian and I shook hands for the last time. Eppy had became a Rock in the Beatles career. I was content being a stepping stone.

One of my abiding memories was my second `Operation Big Beat' at the Tower Ballroom, New Brighton. Such was the Fabs pulling power - aided and abetted by much hard work by yours truly - the attendance of 4,600 is still a British record. The Beatles played two separate spots, the second one just after Midnight. As you might expect by that time I was slightly inebriated, mainly through trying to keep pace with Lennon. Bleary-eyed I confided to Paul that I had always wanted to sing. When they went onstage, Paul suddenly announced my `singing debut.' Going at least three shades of pale, I was pushed - against my will honestly - towards the mike. Sneering down his long nose, a not too pleased John asked me what I was `hoping' to sing. His look should have warned me. Grabbing the mike in a drunken fit of bravado I suggested Little Richard's `Lucille.' Ignoring my request Lennon started playing `Dizzy Miss Lizzy.' So I followed his lead and screamed into the poor inoffensive mike. "You drive me dizzy Miss Lizzy." I was on the second chorus before I realised John had reverted to `Lucille.' I got the message and left them to it. Much to the relief of the suffering audience.

Like Spinal Tap the Beatles always had problems with drummers. For instance Allan Williams got them a prized booking at the Grosvenor Ballroom, Wallasey. Tommy Moore, their current `sticksman' had to work overtime so couldn't play. John set the drums up as usual as this at least made them look professional. Before they began the set, Lennon explained Tommy was working and purely tongue-in-cheek asked. "Does anyone fancy having a bash?" To the Beatles abject horror a local ted called `Big Ron' took John seriously. To a great roar of encouragement from his gang, Ronnie leapt on stage and somehow squeezed his huge frame behind the drums, knocking them over in the process. In the event that was the only time they were going to sound good. There wasn't much room so Big Ron kicked one of the drums offstage as being `surplus to his requirements.' Without even waiting for John's signal to start, Ronnie began bashing the drums as though he wanted to put them in hospital. Even when dropping a drumstick, Ron kept `his' beat by butting the snare. With fixed smiles and raised eyebrows the Beatles somehow struggled through the set. On occasions even managing to catch up with whatever `Big Ron' imagined he was playing. The drums sounded as though they were being hurled from a Lorry traveling at high speed. At the end Ronnie leaned back sweating profusely. Smiling in triumph he growled ominously. "Good aren't I?" Diplomatically, and in perfect harmony, the three terrified Beatles cooed. "Er... yes. Quite promising." Beaming with pleasure Ron made up his mind. "Right, I'll join you permanently. Where are we playing tomorrow??" An urgent phone call to Allan Williams - strategically waiting at the Jacaranda brought him over to sort things out. I was told later Allan was also `sorted out.'

Over the years Bob Wooler and I have had more than a few confrontations - strictly verbal of course. You can imagine his reaction to the stink bomb raid which closed the Cavern for a few hours. There is however one episode for which he will never forgive me. And who cares??

Gerry and the Pacemakers were in Hamburg and there was keen competition between Bob and I to secure their services when they returned. Gerry's Dad told me they were arriving 8.00pm at Central Station instead of Lime Street. Knowing I paid better fees, Mr Marsden promised not to tell Bob. About 7.30pm Dick Matthews and I were sampling beer in the Grapes, pretending not to notice Bob and his partner Vic Anton keeping a low profile in the back bar. Vic was a used car salesman of tremendous girth to whom keeping a low profile didn't come easy. Bob had a shrewd idea that I knew Gerry's arrival time and was obviously determined to keep tabs on me. Which was what I wanted. The trick was to mislead him. No problem!! I had Terry McCann ring the Grapes and ask for me.

The phone rang and the Barman called me over. As I approached the phone the rear door opened slightly. Just loud enough to reach Bob's twitching ears without arousing his suspicion, I dropped the words `Lime Street' and `8.00pm' into the conversation. Thanking Terry profusely for the `information' I hung up, looking around `furtively.' Thinking back I must have been totally overacting. Downing our pints Dick and I slipped out of the Bar and leapt on his motorbike. But just slowly enough for Bob to reach Vic's Citreon and follow us. Given the size of `Big Vic' that was bloody slow, believe me. 

Arriving at Lime Street - Bob and a panting Vic just behind - I pretended to go for a wee whilst `Decoy Dick' stood by the platform waiting for a mystery train that would never arrive. Leaving them all glaring suspiciously at each other, I slipped through a side entrance and was at Central Station before Vic got his breath back. I gave Gerry two months bookings on the understanding he didn't play for anyone else during that period.

Bob never forgot and has pulled many `strokes' on me ever since. But he's always one down. Nothing changes. My introducing The Beatles into the City centre, led to a confrontation with Cavern owner Ray McFall who was quite upset at losing his customers. This rivalry intensified when I began promoting at the Iron Door club. Which was in the next street. On March 11th 1961, I held my first all nighter, with over 2,000 people attending. Later my `spies' told me the Cavern had its lowest attendance of around 50. This didn't give me any great pleasure but business is business and I knew it would only be a matter of time before Ray wised up and abandoned his night-time Jazz only policy. Sure enough ten days later he booked the Beatles for their evening debut. Quite a turn around for a Jazz freak who once fined Rory Storm £1 for playing `Whole Lotta Shaking.' 

Instead of being grateful for my lead, McFall tried to stop the Beatles from appearing at a Wednesday afternoon special I organised with four other top groups. He booked them regularly for lunchtime sessions and was understandably peeved. Warning them not to play for me, he issued an ultimatum. Me or him. Given the circumstances I advised John and Paul to stay with Ray during the day as my event was only a `one off.' However a friend of mine - who now he's approaching middle age doesn't wish to be named - told me to `Leave things with him.' An hour later Lennon came around the corner smirking and gasped. "Only you could close the Cavern, Leachy." Convulsed with laughter, he and Paul told me `someone' had dropped stink bombs inside the Cavern and Ray McFall had to close for the day. I was surprised anyone noticed the difference.

Then I met up with Paul McCartney for the first time in twenty years. On November 28th 1984, two great occasions occurred in Liverpool. Paul received the `Freedom of the City' and his long awaited film, "Give My Regards To Broad Street" was given its UK premiere at the Odeon Cinema. I was one of the fortunate few who was present at both eagerly awaited events. Only 200 were invited to the Freedom ceremony and there was quite a rumpus over who was to receive tickets.

Inevitably, some important and deserving people were left out. Jimmy Hackett, the Deputy Mayor, gave me three invitations and I brought Freddy Marsden of the Pacemakers and John Lennon's Uncle Charlie. I had tried to find Bob Wooler but unfortunately kept missing him at various pubs and clubs in the City. The ceremony was held at the ancient Picton library, with its ornate architecture and beautifully symmetrical oval room. Statues of ancient heroic Liverpudlians' must have looked down in bewilderment. Who was being added to their illustrious ranks?? A General?. An Admiral? Perhaps a Lord? A Beatle?? You can almost feel their incredulity.

Claiming a place on the front row...where else?...it gave me a great feeling of pride that an ordinary Liverpool lad, albeit with an extra-ordinary talent, that I had shared many laughs with all those years ago, was the subject of this great honour. His sheer ability had already earned him the Freedom of the World. But the Freedom of Liverpool was something else!! Looking around me, it was amusing to see some 200 dignitaries agog with excitement, jumping to their feet every time the huge oaken door behind us swung open. We were just as exhilarated as any Beatle fan. There came a buzz of anticipation...this was finally it.

Calmly, Linda walked in first, looking serene and relaxed, and took her place at the other side of the room. When Paul entered, the applause was deafening. As he nervously walked towards the dais, he spotted me and I managed to capture his delight on film. We exchanged a few words and in a typical piece of Macca skylarking, he twice pointed to the door and ordered me. "Go home." before taking his place on the rostrum. There followed the usual well meaning, but incredibly boring, speeches. At long last the controversial Councillor Derek Hatton introduced the main man. "A renowned Son of Liverpool...our own Paul McCartney." Paul was handed his scroll and was finally a `Freeman of Liverpool.'

He handled what must have been an ordeal with great style. Giving a short but witty speech, he remarked. "Now that I'm a Freeman...can I unsheathe my sword in public?" Derek Hatton nodded, and Paul grinned mischievously. "What a relief." Obviously enjoying himself immensely, Macca noticed Freddy Marsden and had a few words with him. Then he looked at me and asked. "Sam, can you get me a booking for Saturday?" I replied, "I'll do my best. I'm sure someone will have you." He concluded the ceremony by remarking sincerely. "This award isn't just for me you know. It's for all our fans and friends who made it all possible. And especially for John." Calling Linda to his side, she was presented with a huge bouquet from the Beatles Appreciation Society ran by John Chambers, to her obvious delight.

Paul then left briefly to attend a private press conference and we went through to another room for champagne and butties. Naturally, those of us from the old days gathered together to share a few memories and laughs. Unfortunately, there was only a handful, Gerry and Fred Marsden, Billy Kramer, Mike McCartney, Deputy mayor Jimmy Hackett - who as Ricky Temple, shared his showbiz debut with Cilla Black at the Cassanova Club in 1961 - and myself. After a few minutes, Macca's assistant asked our little group to move to the rear door as Paul wanted to have a chat with us before meeting the other guests whom he hardly knew. When Paul saw us, he put his arms around everyone and said. "Thanks for coming lads. I really needed your support." Then he dug me in the ribs and continued. "Come and meet Linda." When he told her who I was she smiled and said. "Paul has told me so many nice things about you."

By now, I was in a seventh heaven, helped by two extra champagne's from Paul himself. As he handed them over he warned me. "Don't you go eating any of those ham sandwiches or I'll tell Linda." Paul and Linda duly signed my official programme and Linda even drew a heart over the `i' in her name. Only five minutes later, I was offered £500 for that programme. No chance. That joined my extensive collection of memorabilia. You just can't put a price on those sort of memories.

Linda then took a photo of Paul and I on my disc camera. After 45 minutes of mingling with the other guests, Paul called me over. "We're going now Sam. Do you want a proper photo taken with Linda and I?" There was a press photographer nearby who took a really great shot of the three of us. As he left, Paul gave me the special pen he had been using to sign autographs and said he'd see me at the Premiere. Earlier in the day, Paul had passed some complimentary remarks about me on the Billy Butler show on Radio Merseyside, calling the old days. "The Sam Leach era."

A few day's previously, Paul had sent me ten VIP tickets for the Premiere of `Give My Regards To Broad Street' later that evening. To my delight my family and I were immediately behind him and Linda. It really completed an unforgettable day for me, when as he took his seat, Paul turned around and gave me a thumbs-up signal, shouting. "Now then, Sammy." The `Rupert' film was quite delightful, worthy of Walt Disney himself. When `Broad Street' began, every time Paul or Linda's name appeared on the credits, a great burst of clapping broke out. Although looking a little embarrassed, Paul was amused and delighted at the spontaneous applause.  Even during the film, each song was greeted in similar fashion. I'd had a great day and the media circus were left in no doubt that in Liverpool. "McCartney Rules.....okay?"

I saw Paul once again in January 1990 at his NEC ballroom concert in Birmingham, for which I was given VIP back-stage passes. He had promised to have a brief chat with my daughter Samantha and I. However, this began to look doubtful, as there was a problem with the laser lighting system. We waited for thirty minutes and suddenly I heard him shouting. "Where's Sammy Leach? Where is he?" Flinging his arms around me with obvious affection, he also made a big fuss of Samantha, saying. "Isn't she gorgeous. Are you sure she's yours?" Then he insisted his staff take photos of the three of us during which he pretended to lick Samantha's ear.

Paul hasn't changed since the old days, when he used to make a fuss of my girlfriends. And sometimes nick them. The show was quite fantastic, especially the `Piano in the Air' bit, and Paul waved to us on quite a few occasions. Samantha went to the show a confirmed `New Kids on the Block' fanatic. But she left a McCartney fan. Her favourite group today is `Oasis' the nearest thing to the Beatles for years. She's got good taste and I've just bought all their albums. If I still sound like a young fan, well Rock`n'Roll does that to you. `And what's wrong with that.....I'd like to know.'  -----------------------

(11) Macca and Me (Part 2)

I met up with Paul McCartney again on 21 March 2001 as he did his signing of his poetry book `Blackbird Singing' in Liverpool. He was made up to see me and when the signing was over we chatted and took some photos which will be on the site soon. He also did a radio interview with Billy Butler, BBC deejay, who asked him, "When are you going to write a poem about Sam Leach?" Paul replied. "I'm working on one right now..lets see...`Sam Leach...I love you well..' then he said "Sammy's here." and called me over to tell the press that I was an early promoter of the Beatles and that I'm a nice guy. Then during a TV interview I'm standing right behind him, like a bodyguard. So it was quite a nice day and great to see Paul looking so happy and relaxed. That's what LOVE does !!

Here's a story that will illustrate what a really down to earth nice lad our Sir Paul is. A little old lady got winded slightly when some of the crowd surged forward to get a closer glimpse of him. He sent a man out to bring her inside and spent a good five minutes talking to her and ensuring she was okay. In fact he could have signed many more books in the hour allotted to him for the signing but spent at least two minutes talking and being genuinely interested in each customer. That says everything about my old mate Paul. I'm very proud of him. He's a continual source of credit to himself and Liverpool.

"Some of these anecdotes are from Merseybeat Revisited..the new book. I'll be using the 25,000 words that were left from the original manuscript. I haven't worked out which is which just yet but those who've got the book will know." Sam

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