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       Dedication

      I would like to dedicate this book to my wife Lesley; and to the memory of Brian Epstein and all the Epstein family; and to Beatles fans everywhere. I would like to give my heartfelt thanks to Stafford Hildred, without whose help this book would never have been written.

      Contents

      Title Page

      Dedication

      Prologue

      1 The Start

      2 The Meeting

      3 The Contract

      4 The Record

      5 The Big Break

      6 The Price of Fame

      7 The World

      8 The Escapes

      9 The Palace

      10 The Beginning of the End

      11 The Nightmare

      12 The Unhappy Ending

      13 Sacking

      Copyright

       PROLOGUE

      The Beatles Anthology weighs 8 lb 12 oz and includes references to more than 2,000 people who played a part in the story of the greatest band the world will ever see. It is the Beatles’ own definitive account of their momentous time together. But the man who was by the side of manager Brian Epstein when he first saw the Beatles playing, at the Cavern on 9November 1961, is not mentioned. Apart from John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Pete Best, his is the only other name on the Beatles’ first contract. He became the Beatles’ Mr Fixit. He arranged flights, deflected paternity suits, lent money and often a shoulder to cry on. He bought islands, cars and houses for the Fab Four. He survived a determined attempt by John Lennon to turn him on to LSD. He persuaded George Harrison not to quit the group. He lost Ringo in the middle of Paris airport. And he was a grief counsellor for Paul McCartney when Jane Asher dumped him because she came home early and found him in their bed with another woman.

      His name is Alistair Taylor and he has been effectively airbrushed out of official Beatles history. Yet he was the man who shared Epstein’s amazing early dream of transforming this wonderful raw talent into the fabulous finished product which dazzled the globe. Today, Alistair lives on Income Support and his memories. Yet he once turned down the offer of a 2½ per cent share of the Beatles from Brian Epstein. Estimates vary, but some years ago he was reliabiliably informed that he had rejected a deal which would have given him an estimated £150 million.

      In recent years Alistair has scratched a living any way he can. He has taken back-breaking labouring jobs, shovelling lead in a Dickensian factory near his tiny cottage just outside Matlock in the Derbyshire Dales and he has served as a barman and pot-washer in local pubs and hotels.

      Alistair was with the Beatles from their historic first meeting with Brian Epstein through the astonishing Beatlemania years. As a hard-working and trusted member of the exclusive inner circle, he witnessed the transformation of four young Liverpool musicians into the multi-millionaire international icons they became. Alistair was with the doctor who broke into Brian Epstein’s locked bedroom door in 1967 when the charismatic manager was found dead. In the confused aftermath that followed, he was one of the loyal figures who struggled to help the Beatles reorganise their lives. John Lennon asked him to become general manager of Apple Corps and all four Beatles saw Alistair battling to bring some sanity to the commercial mayhem of that enterprise.

      When the Beatles began to break apart and brash American accountant Allen Klein was brought in to take charge, Alistair was the most senior of a long list of employees who were sacked in 1969. It was a shattering blow to a man who had become totally devoted to ‘the boys’. He had never fiddled a penny of his expenses, never sold a whisper of gossip and never wanted more than to play his part in the greatest entertainment success story of the twentieth century.

      Yet when the axe came, he made four telephone calls – not to plead for his job, but to make sure that each of the Beatles knew exactly what was being done in their name. From John, Paul, George and Ringo, the response was precisely the same – not one of them would come to the phone. Alistair believes they were embarrassed, and having given Klein carte blanche to clean up the chaos they could not make any exceptions. Perhaps that embarrassment is why the name of their faithful aide does not appear anywhere in their own version of events. Who knows? Today, Alistair Taylor might be as poor as a church mouse but he is not bitter. He simply wants to tell his story.

      Stafford Hildred

       September, 2001

       1

       THE START

      The advert in the Sits Vac column of the Liverpool Echo read, ‘Young man wanted for position as sales assistant in city centre music store.’ It might not look too exciting now, but at the time it promised a whole new life. The year was 1960 and I was 25 years old and stuck in a dull job as a clerk in a timber yard in Liverpool. I had worked in shops before and worked my way up as one of the bright young men of the John Lewis organisation. I’d left my home town of Runcorn for a new career in London until an accident in a supermarket damaged my spine and left me jobless.

      Until then, my life had been on the up and up. In London, I shared a flat in Battersea and met the lady who is still my wife. My flatmate Nick and I used to see this gorgeous girl coming home from work every night and, in order to get to know her, we had a party. We put an invitation through her letter box and, to my delight, she accepted. We had asked her really for Nick’s benefit, because I already had a girlfriend. But when she arrived, I opened the door and it was just like – Bang – we were instantly in love. Five days later we were engaged.

      She was called Lesley, and she was gorgeous. I still think she is. We got married on Christmas Eve 1959 at Caxton Hall at nine o’clock in the morning. She had to go back to work because she managed two jewellery shops, one in Regent Street and one in Burlington Arcade. As she worked on commission, she wasn’t going to take time off just before Christmas.

      At four minutes past nine, we were outside on the pavement getting into a taxi that dropped her off to work. All her family thought that I had got her in the club. We had only known each other for five days when we got engaged and within a month we were married.

      Life was fantastic until I slipped a disc lifting a heavy package at work. I was in agony and in plaster for eight months. I couldn’t work for ages so I lost my job without any compensation. We moved back up to Liverpool where it was cheaper to live and I got a job as a clerk in a firm of timber importers. I was terribly bored. We were newly married. I was so unhappy. Lesley got fed up with me coming in every night moaning and demanded to know what would make me happy.

      ‘I’d like to get back to retailing,’ I heard myself saying. I realised that it was contact with people that I missed the most. I loved working in a shop because of the constant flow of different people who come into your life. Lesley understood. She was a sales lady. I just love the atmosphere of serving people. I started looking in the Liverpool Echo and, lo and behold, I saw the fateful ad: ‘Young man wanted’ … That was late

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