For the next few days, the still-unnamed band continued to promote themselves in the same way as they had before. Without worrying about anyone's permission, they played in parks, in stores of various sizes, in restaurants, in the lobby of a movie theatre, in various stations of the New York underground, and once, just outside Madison Square Gardens, dreaming of the day when they would be invited there to play inside.
These mini-concerts were met with varying degrees of success. Often the boys would draw a crowd of admirers, and sometimes the people would even throw them money, which was quite helpful because the boys had been mostly living on the small amount of American money Ringo had brought, supplemented by small amounts of pocket money from the others, which being British money was difficult to spend in America. But more often than not, the concerts came to an end when a Person in Authority came and threw them out. Unperturbed, when this happened, Paul would offer his autograph, Ringo would shout the names of the band members for the crowd to hear, and Winston would simply find them another venue.
The boys' ultimate goal was to become a famous band, and as it happened, they were already starting to attract attention. Whether the establishment appreciated it or not, there was no denying that a group of boys playing music in a bunch of random, unexpected venues was an interesting event and would sell a lot of newspapers. Reporters were starting to look out for these boys, and once or twice, they found them, happily performing songs that were exceptionally good for a band who hadn't been playing together for more than a week. When the boys noticed the reporters in the audience taking pictures of them, they smiled with satisfaction, knowing they were that much closer to their goals. Paul, Ringo, and Geo all thought how impressed they were with Winston, seeing how well his plan to make them famous was working.
Paul loved having his picture taken for the papers so much that he even forgot to worry that someone would identify him as a runaway and make him come back home. But he needn't have worried, because it wasn't him the New York police were looking for. No one knew that the runaway Paul McCartney might have come to New York, but the police were still on the lookout for the runaway George Harrison, and inclined to investigate anything that had to do with British teenagers. Luckily, the New York police didn't have a clear idea what George might look like, since there was no way to get a photograph of him all the way from Liverpool except by mail, which would take a very long time. But the police officers figured that when they did find George, he would tell them who he was, wanting only to go back home. No one suspected that George Harrison didn't want to be found.
The police had heard about this strange young British band that played their music all over the area, no one knowing where they might show up next. Several times, they came to a place where they heard the boys had been, and questioned the managers about this disturbance. Here the band was saved by Paul's decision to use different names. Every time Ringo told the crowd the names of the band members, he would use the aliases James, Winston, Ringo, and Geo, which sounded like Joe to most of the people listening, so no one the police spoke to ever guessed the nickname might be short for George. The police had no reason to suspect that the runaway George Harrison was going by a false name anyway, and wrote off the unruly band as a nuisance, completely unrelated to the lost British teenager they were looking for.
Back in Liverpool, of course, the search for Paul was going strong. Mrs Harrison helped Mr McCartney look for his son every day, finding that it took her mind off her worries, if only slightly, and made her feel like she was doing something. Posters with Paul's name and picture were put up all over Liverpool, begging anyone who might know where he had gone to come forward, but of course Paul hadn't been in Liverpool for days, and no one thought to look for him anywhere else.
The still-unnamed band knew none of this. They saw that their band was getting bigger and better, and they were so happy, and having so much fun, that they barely gave a thought to anything else. They had gone for so many days without being called out for being runaways, even Paul was beginning to relax and just enjoy his journey to what Winston called the toppermost of the poppermost.
"Where are we going?" Winston shouted out joyfully one night, as the little band prepared to enter their hotel after a long day of improvised concert venues.
His mates looked at him curiously.
"To the toppermost of the poppermost!" Winston cheered.
The others laughed and echoed him. "To the toppermost of the poppermost!"
These mini-concerts were met with varying degrees of success. Often the boys would draw a crowd of admirers, and sometimes the people would even throw them money, which was quite helpful because the boys had been mostly living on the small amount of American money Ringo had brought, supplemented by small amounts of pocket money from the others, which being British money was difficult to spend in America. But more often than not, the concerts came to an end when a Person in Authority came and threw them out. Unperturbed, when this happened, Paul would offer his autograph, Ringo would shout the names of the band members for the crowd to hear, and Winston would simply find them another venue.
The boys' ultimate goal was to become a famous band, and as it happened, they were already starting to attract attention. Whether the establishment appreciated it or not, there was no denying that a group of boys playing music in a bunch of random, unexpected venues was an interesting event and would sell a lot of newspapers. Reporters were starting to look out for these boys, and once or twice, they found them, happily performing songs that were exceptionally good for a band who hadn't been playing together for more than a week. When the boys noticed the reporters in the audience taking pictures of them, they smiled with satisfaction, knowing they were that much closer to their goals. Paul, Ringo, and Geo all thought how impressed they were with Winston, seeing how well his plan to make them famous was working.
Paul loved having his picture taken for the papers so much that he even forgot to worry that someone would identify him as a runaway and make him come back home. But he needn't have worried, because it wasn't him the New York police were looking for. No one knew that the runaway Paul McCartney might have come to New York, but the police were still on the lookout for the runaway George Harrison, and inclined to investigate anything that had to do with British teenagers. Luckily, the New York police didn't have a clear idea what George might look like, since there was no way to get a photograph of him all the way from Liverpool except by mail, which would take a very long time. But the police officers figured that when they did find George, he would tell them who he was, wanting only to go back home. No one suspected that George Harrison didn't want to be found.
The police had heard about this strange young British band that played their music all over the area, no one knowing where they might show up next. Several times, they came to a place where they heard the boys had been, and questioned the managers about this disturbance. Here the band was saved by Paul's decision to use different names. Every time Ringo told the crowd the names of the band members, he would use the aliases James, Winston, Ringo, and Geo, which sounded like Joe to most of the people listening, so no one the police spoke to ever guessed the nickname might be short for George. The police had no reason to suspect that the runaway George Harrison was going by a false name anyway, and wrote off the unruly band as a nuisance, completely unrelated to the lost British teenager they were looking for.
Back in Liverpool, of course, the search for Paul was going strong. Mrs Harrison helped Mr McCartney look for his son every day, finding that it took her mind off her worries, if only slightly, and made her feel like she was doing something. Posters with Paul's name and picture were put up all over Liverpool, begging anyone who might know where he had gone to come forward, but of course Paul hadn't been in Liverpool for days, and no one thought to look for him anywhere else.
The still-unnamed band knew none of this. They saw that their band was getting bigger and better, and they were so happy, and having so much fun, that they barely gave a thought to anything else. They had gone for so many days without being called out for being runaways, even Paul was beginning to relax and just enjoy his journey to what Winston called the toppermost of the poppermost.
"Where are we going?" Winston shouted out joyfully one night, as the little band prepared to enter their hotel after a long day of improvised concert venues.
His mates looked at him curiously.
"To the toppermost of the poppermost!" Winston cheered.
The others laughed and echoed him. "To the toppermost of the poppermost!"