When It Was ’64

I am experiencing a case of deja vu with the re-release Friday of the 1964 Beatles’ film “A Hard Day’s Night.” I have been asked to assist Miramax--the studio distributing the film--for the opening. How many Hollywood publicists can honestly claim to have handled the same film twice with such a lapse of time?

It was 37 years ago that I received a call from London asking if I had ever represented the publicity for a motion picture. The call was from ex-press agent-turned-producer Walter Shenson, who years earlier had used me, while I was entertainment editor of a local paper, to gain favor with his boss, Harry Cohn, head of Columbia Pictures.

Here’s the story: In my naivete, I had used in my paper a photograph of the famed beach scene of Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr from the 1953 Columbia movie “From Here to Eternity,” not knowing that the four downtown L.A. papers had rejected it as being too graphically sexual. Needless to say, I was almost terminated from my job, and a phone call of apology from Shenson resulted in a promise that one day he would try to make amends.

Ten years later came the phone call. He wanted to bring to Hollywood’s attention the new film he was producing. I asked a few obvious questions, such as “What’s the title?” and “Who’s starring?” I was bemused to hear “We don’t have a title, and we are using unknowns.” I suggested that he save his hard-earned money, as I could see no way of publicizing a motion picture with such meager information.

Expanding somewhat, he told me he had signed a group called the Beatles, to which I replied that I had never heard of them. This was to be the start of a great adventure, because the following February the fabulous foursome appeared on “The Ed Sullivan Show” and created a preview of the tidal wave that was to follow.

While the film was being shot, I organized stories to be sent to the media. All of them reflected the film’s title, which at that time was “Beatles One.” Several weeks into filming, a reporter asked the Beatles, “What’s it like shooting your first movie?” Ringo, in his own inimitable way, uttered “It’s been a hard day’s night.” Richard Lester, the director, liked the phrase and thought it would work well for the film’s title; according to “A Hard Day’s Write: The Stories Behind Every Beatles Song,” by Steve Turner, Lester told Lennon about the new title and the next day John brought in a song to go along with it.

Welshman Alun Owen was signed to write the original screenplay, which became a documentary about a day in the life of the group. He practically lived with the foursome, traveling in limousines to and from recording sessions, restaurants and anywhere they decided to hang out. Lester, having played jazz piano, was able to rapidly understand the Beatles particular brand of music. During filming, the Beatles were often bored and tired of repeating their lines, but they had a respect and affinity with Lester, whom they called their “conductor.”

“A Hard Day’s Night” was a learning experience for me. With the approach of the 20th anniversary of John Lennon’s death, I reflect on some of the important elements of my craft that I had learned from him. He was a man who understood not only the mood of his times but also the times to come, with the new paths of music and social poetry and the finer points of entertainment.

He also had an inherent sense of the machinations of publicity. All four Beatles shared these instincts to a degree, but Lennon was the one who most easily articulated them.

Each Beatle had his own distinctive style. Paul McCartney often composed songs that he knew would never be recorded, partly because they were so irreverent. One that I recall was called “Let’s Bring Back Old Winnie,” a tongue-in-cheek reference to Winston Churchill. George Harrison was always asking me about movies and vowed if he ever made a lot of money he would form a film company (which he later did, the stylish Handmade Films). As for Ringo, he was constantly shopping for rings of all sizes and shapes (which became a plot point in their second film, “Help!”).

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The uncertainty over the reception for the film, which had cost around $500,000 and was not expected to be any great money-earner, had created an ambivalence in the gang of four, so the film’s pre-publicity was launched without them.

It was a course in publicity all by itself. United Artists (which released the film) knew it would make money on the soundtrack and that kids would want to see the movie. Adults were another story. In spite of the first fore-rumblings of Beatlemania, the film proved a tough fight for the Hollywood community. A screening at the Directors Guild attracted 12 patrons.

New York’s six daily papers printed rave reviews, creating a climate of mild interest out West. We knew that show business would begin to discover the film when studio executives were dragged kicking to the theaters by their children. The amazing change in attitude toward these longhairs and the movie manifested itself at the Academy Awards a year later, when writer Owen was nominated for best story and screenplay written directly for the screen, andGeorge Martin was nominated for best scoring for music adaptation or treatment.

Shenson had fortunately made a two-picture deal with United Artists and the Beatles. For his next movie, he had a much easier time in securing a budget, and it was three times that of “A Hard Day’s Night.” (Shenson died in October, less than two months before the re-release of the film).

For the foursome’s next new adventure, which would be in color, Lester was again signed, and the Beatles were overjoyed; they all shared a fondness and compatibility with their “conductor.”

The film, at the time called “Eight Arms to Hold You,” began shooting on Paradise Island in the Bahamas, with Ringo eventually being chased all over the globe by a cult in pursuit of his ruby ring. The magazines and photo services inundated us with requests for color pictures of the Beatles, and we had to hire extra staff to accommodate the global clamor.

Then the bombshell: United Artists told us they hated the title. As every movie publicist knows, the last thing one wants to hear after writing numerous stories for the worldwide media is that a title change is being demanded. Even the title song had been recorded. Publicity was suspended for a week until we were officially told the new title would be “Help!” and soon after the title song was composed and agreed to by the distributor.

Filming, in the warm climate of the Bahamas, created a light mood. The foursome seemed to be having great fun with their leading lady, Eleanor Bron--they kept singing “A Star is Bron.” Henry Grossman, on assignment for Life magazine, arrived to shoot a cover, and his subsequent portraits went worldwide to the delight of Beatle fans.

There was a moment when I thought I would be immortalized when John Lennon started singing ‘What is a Jerry Pam?’ as he walked on the set. It seemed the group refused to believe that a fellow Englishman could have such a moniker. Alas, there is no recorded version.

Brian Epstein, the Beatles’ longtime manager and the man who really created their fame via his brilliant marketing, was a stickler for security of his valuable cargo. He kept complaining about the high costs of hiring so many ex-policemen when the group moved in any direction. I thought I had the ideal solution: Why not separate them? A quartet is too conspicuous, and nobody expects to see one Beatle floating around. But that idea was rebuffed on the spot.

I look back on those days with fondness. How splendid it is that so many years later a TV special (on ABC) and a CD with all their No. 1 hits are acquainting a new generation with a group that disbanded 30 years ago.

* “A Hard Days Night,” Friday-Thursday at the Nuart, 11272 Santa Monica Blvd., West Los Angeles. (310) 478-6379.