1674-5 The Beatles SUN FEB 05 1984 ED: FINAL
SECTION: AMUSEMENTS PAGE: 1L LENGTH: 53 .42" LONG
ILLUST: photo: The Beatles
SOURCE: RICHARD WALLACE
Herald Staff Writer
DATELINE: CBS network crew
MEMO: See Jay Maeder story on 1L
MEET THE BEATLES
Twenty years ago this month, Miami was part of a magical madness, a
wildly improbable tale of three cities. What happened summarily altered our
conception of long-hair musicians and, if it didn't quite rock the world, it
set much of America rocking.
The Beatles came to town.
In New York, Washington and Miami, four young Englishmen from
Liverpool -- the Fab Four: John, Paul, George and Ringo -- formally introduced
an outlandish import, Beatlemania, to the United States. In the Big Apple and
the nation' s capital, the Beatles played their first U.S. concerts, driving
audiences to ecstatic, high-decibel uproar.
But in New York and then in Miami Beach -- at the Deauville Hotel on
Sunday night, Feb. 16, 1964 -- the Beatles put on reallybig shows. Right
there, live on the stage of the Ed Sullivan Show, a quintessential institution
of U.S. popular culture became the nation' s medium for mass dissemination of
the jubilant message, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. "
Most of the record-setting crowd of 5, 000 packed into the
Deauville ' s Napoleon Room that night answered the Beatles with an equally
emphatic, joyous uproar.
"I tell you, that was strange, " Jim Bishop, one of the show' s
cameramen, recalled. "They went absolutely bananas. "
Along with the audio overload, what most astonished Bishop -- a
longtime WTVJ-Ch. 4 production staffer who that night was assisting the was
the composition of the audience: mostly adults.
"I 've never seen an adult audience act like that, " he said. "They
were just taken with this group. I couldn' t figure out what was the
attraction. "
Understandable or not, the attraction was a potent force. When the
Beatles landed at Miami International Airport the Thursday before the Sullivan
show, about 7, 000 people, most of them teenage girls, greeted them . . .
hysterically. The Herald story the next day was headlined, "4 Beatles Fly Into
Miami And Set Off Teenage Rioet Off Teenage Riot. "
The "riot" -- in later years, Miami would be forced to apply much
grimmer standards for using the word -- mostly involved a lot of shrieking,
screeching, thrashing and sobbing over the prospect of merely viewing the
Beatles getting off the plane. The fans ' sheer numbers and raw exuberance,
however, caused seven minor casualties; they suffered cuts and scratches in
the scramble to get a glimpse of the rising stars and their shockingly long
hair.
In the chaos, two adults were arrested for drunkenness. Property
damage amounted to a broken plate-glass door, some smashed jalousies, broken
chairs and overturned sand-filled ashtrays. The throng also overran at least
one police guard.
A day in the life of Beatlemania.
The four objects of the throng' s desire were whisked away across
Miami and then across Biscayne Bay, where they checked into the Deauville --
and into Buddy Dresner' s life.
Rocky Pomerance, Miami Beach' s living-legend police chief of the
era, selected Dresner to head a detail of officers assigned to protect the
Beatles from the fallout of the mushrooming mania they had created. Thus,
Dresner became police watchdog to the stars.
He found his four charges to be disarmingly likable young men who
were naive and curious about life in the United States.
"They were like little babies; you couldn' t leave them alone, "
Dresner said.
(John Lennon was 23; Ringo Star, 23; Paul McCartney, 21; George
Harrison, 20 . )
Originally, Dresner' s assignment was intended to last several days;
the Beatles were scheduled to fly home to England shortly after the second
Sullivan show. But the boys loved the Beach and the South Florida sun. They
decided to add some vacation time, extending their visit to an eight-day week.
The Beatles put their free moments to pleasurable use. They went
nightclubbing on the then- glitzy Miami Beach strip. They visited the
Peppermint Lounge, then ranged far up Hotel Row to catch the Castaways Motel ' s
Wreck Bar in its heyday, when it seemed impossible that such a tourist
landmark could ever founder.
The Fab Four also went speedboating . . . and yachting . . . and
fishing. ( "They wouldn' t bait their hooks, " Dresner said. ) The Beatles also
became fascinated by American television, which they were viewing for the
first time. There was a meeting with an up-and-coming boxer named Cassius
Clay. Some hokey photos resulted. The man who was to be the king of boxing as
Muhammad Ali strutted over the prostrate forms of all four Beatles after a
staged quadruple "knockout. "
Somehow, there was time for friendships -- discreet ones with young
women. At the time, Lennon' s wife, Cynthia, was the only Beatles spouse.
Watching over all the activity left Dresner too little time to go
home, he said, so he told Harrison, " 'George, you got a roommate. ' I moved
in, so if there was a problem I was right there. "
The chronic problem was the battle to keep the stars separated from
the eternal mob of overeager admirers. Keeping away minors proved a major
task. The Beatles made clandestine entries and exits from hotel alleyways .
Sometimes they traveled in panel work trucks.
"We had completely surrounded the hotel with security guards, " said
Eddie Liles, who was the Deauville ' s maitre d' when the Beatles came to stay.
As a security measure, "guests had to have passes to enter and re-enter the
hotel, " Liles said.
But sometimes the security wasn't enough. There seemed to be a young
woman behind every man in the band.
"We 'd be going up to their suite, and women would manage to pop up;
it seemed like it was out of the walls, " said Ruth Regina, one woman who was
getting paid to be up-close and personal with the Beatles. "I was under tight
security with them, " said Regina, a makeup expert who readied the Beatles '
hair and faces for television.
If Regina ever wondered how coveted her job was, she was reminded by
a wall of sound outside the hotel. It wasn't soothing surf.
"We could hear the girls shouting at them. It was like a constant
roar, " Regina said.
In her professional eye, McCartney was the handsomest Beatle -- but
Regina liked being with them all.
"I loved it. I felt it was like a party and I was getting paid for
it. "
But the constant press of the adoring multitude yearning to touch
the Beatles -- or anyone in touch with them -- could be oppressive. Someone
wanted Regina to smuggle out tissues she used to wipe the Beatles ' faces. She
refused.
And Cynthia Lennon was caught sans escort outside the hotel and
chased by Beatles beagles, an aggressive, squealing breed of autograph hound.
She survived unmauled.
For Liles -- who has retired from the hotel trade to run his own
business, a tough neighborhood' s "modest drinkatorium, " the Sunshine Inn on NW
lith Street -- his Beatles days still rank as "the most hectic week of my
entire life. "
Everything, in fact, had been hectic on the Beatles ' East Coast
major-city mystery tour. There were the fans. Then there was the press.
Journalists, too, dogged the Beatles, taking pictures, writing
stories, seeking interviews. Obviously, the group and the supercharged
reactions it generated were news. But in early 1964, the Beatles ' fame game
was so fresh that many journalists seemed baffled about whether to treat
Lennon, McCartney, Harrison and Starr as a meaningful phenomenon or just a
momentary fad.
So, a fascinated, bemused but ultimately uncertain press corps made
puns and wordplay about mop-tops, bugs, beetles and various manifestations of
Beatlemania. It was as if the press wanted to guarantee that it would never be
accused of treating seriously a potentially frivolous topic such as the
Beatles.
The Beatles ' offhand, irreverent comments during their media
meetings indicated that they themselves were trying not to take anything
seriously.
Here ' s a sampling of a Miami Beach news conference:
Q. "What are you going to do about the mobs when you go in the
water?"
A. (Ringo) "Use swimming policemen. "
Q. (To John) Will your wife hold a press conference?"
A. "No, but you can come to tea. "
Q. (From a female reporter) "What are you doing tonight?"
A. (John) "I don' t know. What are you doing?"
Meanwhile, while the growing cadre of hard-core Beatles fans shouted
their approval, many mainstream Americans groped to understand what was
happening. The Beatles ' look, their music, their personalities, their very
magnitude -- all seemed unfathomable.
When they were caught in a serious moment, even the Beatles seemed
hard-pressed to assess themselves in 1964 . In his Capitol Records biography,
Ringo said:
"None of us have quite grasped what it' s all about yet. It ' s washing
over our heads like some huge tidal wave. But we're young. Youth is on our
side. And it ' s youth that matters right now. I don't care about politics or
anything -- just people. "
With the passage of time, Sullivan Show cameraman Bishop developed
an appreciation for the Beatles ' evolving music. Bishop, who has "always been
a classical music freak, " acknowledged that "later on, I began to understand
them musically. "
Dresner retains many fond recollections of his days as the Beatles '
guardian.
He remembered that their insistence on waiting for room service to
bring them up their newly discovered American delicacy -- grilled-cheese
sandwiches -- nearly made them late for the TV show.
He still savors the distinction of bringing the Beatles home to his
North Miami Beach house to enjoy his wife Dottie ' s home-cooked dinner --
prepared for the group' s entire retinue of 21 people. The meal featured large
quantities of roast beef, potatoes and strawberry shortcake, Dresner
recalled.
Once, Dresner said, when he sat near a nightclub stage with the
Beatles while insult artist Don Rickles performed. Dresner said he warned the
four Englishmen that Rickles "will start to tear you apart, you have to have a
sense of humor. "
They did. When Rickles pointed at one of them and said, "Why don't
you put a broomstick in your nose? You could be a mopl " the Beatles laughed.
"They really got into it, " Dresner said.
And in his retirement after 29 1/2 years as a police officer, Dresner
reflected on John Lennon' s murder: "I think it was a terrible waste. There was
aman who wanted peace on this earth. Sometimes, it ' s a sick society. "
He also remembered that George Harrison had a dream: The Beatles
might eventually live in the warmth of the Mediterranean, each ensconced on
his own Greek island. "Someday, we're all going to buy our own islands and
visit each other (in speedboats) , " Dresner quoted Harrison.
His ultimate Beatles memory of how they were at that time in this
place?
"They were a bunch of kids having a good time. "
ADDED TERMS: beatles biography
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END OF DOCUMENT.