The concert at Madison Square Gardens was promoted all over New York, and there were posters everywhere with photos of the various bands who would be playing. The Beatles were thrilled to see their picture splashed all over the city in something other than a wanted poster. But it did give Paul pause.
"I hope me dad isn't following the music scene here," he remarked nervously.
George frowned and nodded.
John didn't think there was any need to worry. "He's too busy looking for you with the police to take in a show." The way John pronounced the word "police" left no doubt as to his opinion of the legal system.
Ringo agreed with John. "They can't catch you now. We're nearly at the Toppermost of the Poppermost!"
So Paul decided not to worry about it anymore. His friends were right; his dad probably wasn't following the music scene here. Although his dad had somehow found out he was in New York already, and how he'd done it was still a mystery to Paul. But he tried not to think about that and focus on practising for the upcoming concert. Brian advised them to practise their set a lot so they would be sure to sound perfect, and sometimes the lads listened to him, though other times they wandered off to do something fun instead. Brian never complained about this. He knew by now that his young charges had minds of their own. They were coming along beautifully, and he was proud of them.
Jim McCartney picked up the telephone in his hotel room to find the chief of police on the other end. "I called to tell you that we've found out where those Beatles are trying to take your son next," he said without preamble. "They'll be at Madison Square Gardens tomorrow afternoon. We'll have men stationed all over the place to get him and the Harrison boy back, and to take in those other two troublemakers."
At last. "Let me and the Harrisons come along," Jim replied fiercely. "I want to be there when you rescue my son."
It was the night before the big show. The Beatles set down their instruments (except Ringo, who was sitting at his instrument and just set down his drumsticks), all four feeling very satisfied.
"I think we've practised enough, men," John announced.
Ringo grinned. "Gear, we can just fool around in the dressing room tomorrow."
Paul was fidgeting with excitement. "Do you think we'll get our picture in the paper again?"
"Of course!" grinned John. "The Toppermost of the Poppermost always does."
George said nothing, but from his face the others could tell he was excited, too.
"We'll be gettin' our recording contract and that any day now," John went on happily. "Nothing can keep us away from the Toppermost of the Poppermost!"
"Let's celebrate," Ringo suggested, and his words were followed by a cheer from the band.
"Come on," giggled John, as the foursome made their way to the hotel room door, "maybe I can sneak us another beer at a pub!"
Brian Epstein came knocking on the door in the morning, waking up his four young charges. The Beatles had done so much partying the night before that they were sound asleep.
Brian wasn't overly happy. "You lads need to be on form for your concert today! Try going out to celebrate after you've done your shows, not exhausting yourselves the night before."
"Sorry, Brian," grinned Ringo, speaking for all of them. "We'll be used to this stayin' up all night business soon."
Brian sighed. That wasn't quite what he'd meant. But he decided not to push it.
The concert was in the daytime, starting in the early afternoon and going on till sunset. The Beatles did have some time to wake up properly, but Brian wanted them to arrive early so they would have a chance to settle in and look around.
"I've scheduled your set as far back as possible," he told the band as he drove them there. "The closer you are to the grand finale, the more impressive you'll be. I've been told some of the most important music industry people in New York will be here today. So if anyone from the audience talks to you, I want you to be polite, all right? Your image is very important."
"Don't worry, Brian," replied John irreverently. "We know how to behave."
Brian glanced at John in the rearview mirror - if any Beatle was likely to be impolite to a potential producer or the like, it was John. He hoped John meant what he said. With him, it was hard to tell.
"Look!" called Ringo, who was looking out the window, not paying attention to this. "I think we just passed another poster with our picture on it!"
The whole band leaned into the window to catch a glimpse. Their car had barely passed that spot when three adults walked up.
"So this is what they've been doing," Harold Harrison murmured, taking in the picture of the four Beatles, especially his George. George seemed happy enough. He was smiling rather more widely than he usually did at home, and he didn't look hurt or any thinner than usual....
"George, are you all right, my love?" Louise whispered, touching the photo, as though hoping George could hear her.
Jim's eyes swept the poster angrily, landing on Paul, who, he had to admit, did look all right for the most part. Though he still worried about that dreadful thing they had done to his hair. "First thing when we get home, Paul, you're going to the barber's."
"Are there usually so many police at a concert?" George asked delicately. His voice held a too-calm flavour that suggested he noticed something worrisome, but didn't want to say anything too soon and alarm the others.
If George had wanted to not alarm the others, it didn't work. "Police?" Paul's head whipped up, and, just as quickly, he ducked down again. "What are they doing here?"
"Easy, Paul," laughed John. "Very inconspicuous of you, ducking around like that."
Ringo peeked out the window, somewhat more nervously than he had before. "There are quite a lot of them...."
Brian frowned. "I expect the police are there to give the bands security. It's not uncommon among the bigger stars, though I can't see why they'd expect too much rioting here."
The Beatles said nothing more. All four of them felt very uncomfortable about this....
Brian parked the car, and the four lads slipped out of the backseat. For one second, one brief second, they looked around them, taking in their concert venue, the large area where fans were already arriving, the strains of music from other up-and-coming bands who were playing now....
Next thing they knew, the policemen had surrounded them.
"I hope me dad isn't following the music scene here," he remarked nervously.
George frowned and nodded.
John didn't think there was any need to worry. "He's too busy looking for you with the police to take in a show." The way John pronounced the word "police" left no doubt as to his opinion of the legal system.
Ringo agreed with John. "They can't catch you now. We're nearly at the Toppermost of the Poppermost!"
So Paul decided not to worry about it anymore. His friends were right; his dad probably wasn't following the music scene here. Although his dad had somehow found out he was in New York already, and how he'd done it was still a mystery to Paul. But he tried not to think about that and focus on practising for the upcoming concert. Brian advised them to practise their set a lot so they would be sure to sound perfect, and sometimes the lads listened to him, though other times they wandered off to do something fun instead. Brian never complained about this. He knew by now that his young charges had minds of their own. They were coming along beautifully, and he was proud of them.
Jim McCartney picked up the telephone in his hotel room to find the chief of police on the other end. "I called to tell you that we've found out where those Beatles are trying to take your son next," he said without preamble. "They'll be at Madison Square Gardens tomorrow afternoon. We'll have men stationed all over the place to get him and the Harrison boy back, and to take in those other two troublemakers."
At last. "Let me and the Harrisons come along," Jim replied fiercely. "I want to be there when you rescue my son."
It was the night before the big show. The Beatles set down their instruments (except Ringo, who was sitting at his instrument and just set down his drumsticks), all four feeling very satisfied.
"I think we've practised enough, men," John announced.
Ringo grinned. "Gear, we can just fool around in the dressing room tomorrow."
Paul was fidgeting with excitement. "Do you think we'll get our picture in the paper again?"
"Of course!" grinned John. "The Toppermost of the Poppermost always does."
George said nothing, but from his face the others could tell he was excited, too.
"We'll be gettin' our recording contract and that any day now," John went on happily. "Nothing can keep us away from the Toppermost of the Poppermost!"
"Let's celebrate," Ringo suggested, and his words were followed by a cheer from the band.
"Come on," giggled John, as the foursome made their way to the hotel room door, "maybe I can sneak us another beer at a pub!"
Brian Epstein came knocking on the door in the morning, waking up his four young charges. The Beatles had done so much partying the night before that they were sound asleep.
Brian wasn't overly happy. "You lads need to be on form for your concert today! Try going out to celebrate after you've done your shows, not exhausting yourselves the night before."
"Sorry, Brian," grinned Ringo, speaking for all of them. "We'll be used to this stayin' up all night business soon."
Brian sighed. That wasn't quite what he'd meant. But he decided not to push it.
The concert was in the daytime, starting in the early afternoon and going on till sunset. The Beatles did have some time to wake up properly, but Brian wanted them to arrive early so they would have a chance to settle in and look around.
"I've scheduled your set as far back as possible," he told the band as he drove them there. "The closer you are to the grand finale, the more impressive you'll be. I've been told some of the most important music industry people in New York will be here today. So if anyone from the audience talks to you, I want you to be polite, all right? Your image is very important."
"Don't worry, Brian," replied John irreverently. "We know how to behave."
Brian glanced at John in the rearview mirror - if any Beatle was likely to be impolite to a potential producer or the like, it was John. He hoped John meant what he said. With him, it was hard to tell.
"Look!" called Ringo, who was looking out the window, not paying attention to this. "I think we just passed another poster with our picture on it!"
The whole band leaned into the window to catch a glimpse. Their car had barely passed that spot when three adults walked up.
"So this is what they've been doing," Harold Harrison murmured, taking in the picture of the four Beatles, especially his George. George seemed happy enough. He was smiling rather more widely than he usually did at home, and he didn't look hurt or any thinner than usual....
"George, are you all right, my love?" Louise whispered, touching the photo, as though hoping George could hear her.
Jim's eyes swept the poster angrily, landing on Paul, who, he had to admit, did look all right for the most part. Though he still worried about that dreadful thing they had done to his hair. "First thing when we get home, Paul, you're going to the barber's."
"Are there usually so many police at a concert?" George asked delicately. His voice held a too-calm flavour that suggested he noticed something worrisome, but didn't want to say anything too soon and alarm the others.
If George had wanted to not alarm the others, it didn't work. "Police?" Paul's head whipped up, and, just as quickly, he ducked down again. "What are they doing here?"
"Easy, Paul," laughed John. "Very inconspicuous of you, ducking around like that."
Ringo peeked out the window, somewhat more nervously than he had before. "There are quite a lot of them...."
Brian frowned. "I expect the police are there to give the bands security. It's not uncommon among the bigger stars, though I can't see why they'd expect too much rioting here."
The Beatles said nothing more. All four of them felt very uncomfortable about this....
Brian parked the car, and the four lads slipped out of the backseat. For one second, one brief second, they looked around them, taking in their concert venue, the large area where fans were already arriving, the strains of music from other up-and-coming bands who were playing now....
Next thing they knew, the policemen had surrounded them.
Paul - And I love her. It reminded him how much he loves you, how much he treasures you and wants you around. Whenever he sings it, he thinks of you and how much he loves being with you and making you happy.
John - I feel fine. He finally knew you loved him, because you finally told him and he was so proud he wanted to shout it from the rooftops. You didn’t care about what he gave you, but he wanted to spoil you anyway, making sure you stay his.
George - Something. Everything you did just mesmerised him, making him be in awe of you. The way you moved, smiled, your disposition just made him so happy and he knew that you were the one for him, and when he’d play it, he just knew that you were there for him.
Ringo - I wanna be your man. It reminded him of the time he was pining to be with you. He wanted to be yours forever, wanted to make you happy and feel worth something. When he finally became yours this became the anthem of you memories.
John - I feel fine. He finally knew you loved him, because you finally told him and he was so proud he wanted to shout it from the rooftops. You didn’t care about what he gave you, but he wanted to spoil you anyway, making sure you stay his.
George - Something. Everything you did just mesmerised him, making him be in awe of you. The way you moved, smiled, your disposition just made him so happy and he knew that you were the one for him, and when he’d play it, he just knew that you were there for him.
Ringo - I wanna be your man. It reminded him of the time he was pining to be with you. He wanted to be yours forever, wanted to make you happy and feel worth something. When he finally became yours this became the anthem of you memories.