The other day on PBS I watched the documentary Best of the Beatles. It's a pun title and the same as used on one of Pete Best's albums - the one that really pissed off John and the other Be-at-les. The fairly straightforward documentary is both entertaining and enlightening, with just a smidge of self-serving commentary from local Liverpudlians, family, and Pete himself. Mostly it's honest and poignant and more evocative of the era than other more expensive, high-profile pieces I've seen.
Pete really was one of the Beatles, along with John, Paul, George, and Stuart Sutcliffe, who died very young (of a brain aneurysm, I believe.) Just before signing a record contract (Decca?), Pete was booted out of the group and Ringo was brought in. I've always thought this a bit unfair, but there might have been other conflicts: its sometimes implied that Pete wasn't a top-notch drummer (this seems unlikely), or that he was getting all the girls (Pete's suggestion), or that he wasn't completely compatible with the raucous, even licentious Beatles of the Hamburg era. Perhaps. Tough break for Pete, though, who'd had his sights set on stardom.
Pete eventually left the music business and made an ordinary English living, like the rest of his mates. Sometime in the 1980s he got a new band, and together with his brother went on the road.
Last October here in Wilmington, DE, I picked up the paper and noticed a small ad listing Pete and his band, playing that evening at Kelly's Logan's House, a bar that serves food and offers a small upstairs room and stage, only a mile or so from my downtown apartment. Although Kelly's, established in 1864 and on the National Register of Historic Places, was across the street from our favorite grocery, I'd never been inside.
Reading that ad, I had one of the strangest feelings I've ever experienced. I can't explain it, or even describe the emotion. It really took me back, though. In 1964, when I was fifteen, I lived in Houston, and was offered tickets to the Beatles concert at the Coliseum. Staying loyal to the Beach Boys, I turned down the tickets. Later I fell in with the British Invasion - the Hermits, The Animals, the Stones, etc. - and went to every gathering. This was the real beginning of the 1960s in Texas.
I've always loved live music. Texas was (and still is) full of hillbilly, rockabilly, folk and country singers, pickers, garage and bar bands. Everything. In 1956, at Magnolia Gardens (near Galveston), I saw Elvis perform. 1-9-5-6. I was seven and even then he was electrifying. (And the dance floor was concrete, so that's dangerous.)
Really dumb choice, of course, rejecting those tickets. I knew the Beatles concerts were short - about 45 minutes in those days - and deafening, so that you couldn't really hear the music; but I've always regetted missing the experience. I didn't miss any concerts after that, chasing festivals around the country to be in the moment. But I missed that quintessential Beatles concert. Over the years I got to hear Ringo and Paul in concert, and Ravi Shankar and other near-misses; these were Beatle-like experiences. The day in 1981, when I walked by the Dakota near Central Park, struck home the most. I mourned the talent and legend and lost promise of John Lennon; a very sad day for everyone. An unfinished life.
Let's be respectful but joyous. It's 2007 and I'm here in Wilmington. Laurie was out of town on a business trip, so I reserved a ticket, then had dinner, took the bus over, and arrived early enough to pay for the $22 ticket and walk inside. I don't drink alcohol so I bought a Coke and found a seat in the tiny upstairs room. There was a second bar at the room's back and a small dance floor, plus a few stools arranged in front of the windows; but the stage, covered with two drum kits and ampliers and guitar stands, dominated the room.
I'll cut to the chase. A local band opened and they were quite entertaining; I think they were energized to be opening for Pete. After that, Best's band took over. I think the second drum set belong's to Pete's brother; they both play, while Pete (who is 65) also sings a bit. An interesting band with lots of credits, talented musicians and singers. Pete selected songs he'd actually played in the early Beatle years, plus some later songs that were crowd-pleasers. The room wasn't full - less than a hundred people, probably, and fairly young. There were only a few seats (I'd grabbed a stool early and a young blonde parked on my lap for most of Pete's concert; I wasn't annoyed, exactly, since the floor was crowded, but she might at least have asked.)
After the music, Pete chatted and signed autographs. I know this is a little cheesy, given the vagaries of history and how far the Fab Four had actually carried their banner without Pete along for the ride. But I truly admired the forgotten Beatle, who took the ingredients he'd been given and made pudding with it.