Editor’s Note: In 1968, Rolling Stone dispatched a new reporter, Sydney Pidgemon, to London to follow the legendary rock band The Beatles for a few days in order to get a sense of who they were as people and musicians when they weren’t performing. The band had just released “The White Album,” their eighth studio album and, like “Revolver” and “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” a different paced and styled album from what they had done before. Unfortunately, young James Goldsmith died on his return to New York. He had dropped a quarter into the airplane toilet and looked into it too far, causing him to lose his balance and get sucked through the toilet. His effects, including this rough draft of the article, were delivered to Rolling Stone headquarters and forgotten about. Only now have the records been uncovered and published. In it is depicted a slightly different version of the band that many have not seen before, and we at Rolling Stone hope that this excerpt adds to the mythic proportions of which the fab four are seen. Also, because this is a rough draft, some of the dialogue will be in transcription only, with no commentary from the reporter. Enjoy.
I first arrived at the band’s flat early Tuesday morning. I thought it a bit odd that these wealthy and famous men shared an apartment together, but I figured it must be for something like group cohesion and thought nothing of it. I could hear a loud commotion from the other side of the door, and my first attempts at knocking were muffled by yells of “Oh, come off it” and other such British things. The door finally opened to reveal Paul (McCartney of course) still in his mint green pajama suit and a sullen look on his face.
“Come in,” he sighed. “Ringo’s trying to have a pancake fight.”
The scene inside was something else. A bedroom stemmed from either side of the main room, and I could see bunk beds behind the doors. John was waiting outside their only bathroom with a toothbrush and towel, tapping impatiently and exclaiming, “George, come on, how long does it take to pee? I know you’re reading your little book in there.” A muffled cry came from the bathroom.
“But it’s the one where Babar goes to America! See John, we’re just like Babar!”
Suddenly, something soft and warm hit me in the back of the head. I pulled the syrupy pancake from my hair and turned around just in time to spot a giggling Ringo dive behind the couch, all the while muttering, “I”m Ringo, I play the drums.”
This was certainly not what I was expecting. Paul stood in the corner of the living room, smoking in his pajamas.
“Is it always like this?” I asked him.
“Usually George is also throwing pancakes, but we just bought him the new Babar book, so he’s been pretty absorbed in that.”
At that moment the clock struck ten and Paul turned to the rest of the group.
“Okay everyone, you know what that means. Band meeting. Everyone gather round.”
Paul: Okay everyone settle down. Ringo, put down that pancake.
Ringo: But it’s round, like a drum.
Paul: Yes we get it, Ringo. You play the drums.
John: I could play the drums if I wanted to.
Paul: Sure John, I bet you could.
Ringo: But the drums are my thing!
George: I also like rhythm.
Paul: Okay everyone we are getting incredibly off track. Let’s try to regroup and come together in this meeting. Now, someone, I’m not going to name names, but someone keeps forgetting to put away the dishes after they wash them. We just have weird piles of clean dishes on our counter and it’s very confusing.
John: I shouldn’t have to put them away. I’m John!
Ringo: And I’m Ringo!
Paul: Yes we all know that you’re Ringo, Ringo, and John, we all have our duties in the flat.
John: What about George? He doesn’t do anything!
George: You guys want to talk about rhythm guitar?
Paul: Okay, well George doesn’t have to do chores and you know that, John.
John: Well what about Ringo?
Ringo: Drums.
Paul: You heard it, Ringo’s got his drums. I feel like we’re not focusing on the actual issues here. Mainly, Ringo and George won’t stay in their bunk beds. They keep switching bunk beds, and when I go to tuck in George and read him his Babar bedtime story, I see Ringo trying to play his knees like drums.
Ringo: There’s lots of drums but only two knees, so it’s harder.
Paul: Guys, this is untenable. We have strict bunk bed assignments for a reason and if we can’t stick to them, then… then I might have to leave the band.
George: No, daddy, don’t leave!
Paul: George, I’m not your dad. We’re the same age.
George: … anyone want to talk about rhythm guitar?
Patrick Thedinga is the Humor editor.
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