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"Who's The Redhead On The Roof...?"
"Who's The Redhead On The Roof...?"
"Who's The Redhead On The Roof...?"
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"Who's The Redhead On The Roof...?"

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In 1968 I was invited to be in a unique and privileged position in the world of popular music. I was to look after the equipment of the biggest band in the world, The Beatles.
I know it was unique and a privilege because only one other person had done the job before me, his name was Mal Evans and he was the Beatles’ Roadie.
Over the past 40 odd years since the Beatles split up there have been countless books published on the band. I can’t add anything new to their story, I can only tell mine. My job with the Beatles has been described as various different things in books and on the internet, some right, some wrong. I am writing this book to clarify my role working with the boys. How you view me after you have read my account I leave to you.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMay 27, 2015
ISBN9781310793110
"Who's The Redhead On The Roof...?"
Author

Kevin Harrington

In 1968 I was invited to be in a unique and privileged position in the world of popular music. I was to look after the equipment of the biggest band in the world, The Beatles.I know it was unique and a privilege because only one other person had done the job before me, his name was Mal Evans and he was the Beatles’ Roadie.Over the past 40 odd years since the Beatles split up there have been countless books published on the band. I can’t add anything new to their story, I can only tell mine. My job with the Beatles has been described as various different things in books and on the internet, some right, some wrong. I am writing this book to clarify my role working with the boys. How you view me after you have read my account I leave to you.

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    Book preview

    "Who's The Redhead On The Roof...?" - Kevin Harrington

    "Who’s The Redhead

    On The Roof....?"

    Written by Kevin Harrington

    Copyright

    All names and characters represented in this book are factual and the story is the copyright of the writer. I would like to thank all copyright holders of the numerous photographs within this book and I will give credit when I can find the source.

    Nonetheless, if you own the rights to any of these images and do not wish them to appear in this book please contact me at noeasyroad@gmail.com and they will be promptly removed.

    Dedicated to Brian for showing me which door to knock on, Mal for inviting me in and Bruce for taking me all around the house.

    Acknowledgements

    I would like to thank my wife Jan for everything. John my son, Emily my daughter and Richard Ames and Carrie Fletcher for helping me finish the bloody thing.

    Special thanks to John Kosh

    Introduction

    In 1968 I was invited to be in a unique and privileged position in the world of popular music. I was to look after the equipment of the biggest band in the world, The Beatles.

    I know it was unique and a privilege because only one other person had done the job before me. His name was Mal Evans and he was The Beatles’ Roadie.

    Over the past 40 odd years since The Beatles split up there have been countless books published on the band. I can’t add anything new to their story, I can only tell mine. My job with The Beatles has been described as various different things in books and on the internet, some right, some wrong. I am writing this book to clarify my role working with the boys. How you view me after you have read my account I leave to you.

    To all Beatles fans and scholars: you know so much more about the band than I do. What I am writing here is just my experience, some of the moments that hold a special place in my memory. But as it was over four decades ago, the time line is a bit hazy. Do I wish to look up all that happened in those far off days to check dates and so on? Honestly no, I don’t. I’ll leave that to the experts. Maybe if we meet one day you can tell me exactly what I was doing, when and where. I can only tell you what it was like for an 18 year old to work for the biggest band in the world. The Beatles.

    Kevin Harrington

    22/01/2013

    CHAPTER ONE – The Early Years

    In 2002 I received a letter that read:

    Dear Mr Harrington. In connection with a current film project, I am looking for a Kevin Harrington who was road manager to a couple of top rock groups in the late 1960s and early 1970s.

    I had worked for The Beatles in the late ‘60s so I knew it was me. I thought, fuck, how many letters had he sent out? I rang the phone number on the letter. Mark Lewisohn, who I would later find out is regarded as the foremost Beatles scholar, was pleased to hear from me as he had wanted to speak to me for a long time. He was interviewing people who were around during the making of the Beatles album ‘Let It Be’ and the last live Beatles performance on the roof of the Apple offices in Savile Row. When we met, Mark said people interested in The Beatles were also interested in me. So this is me, my beginnings, and me and The Beatles.

    On 3 March 1950, late at night, my mother gave birth to me at 25 Montague Street, Holborn, WC1, in the heart of London. On the floor of the front room of our ground floor council maisonette, my mother cut the cord and waited alone for the midwife to arrive next morning.

    This was post-war London. A time of pea soupers, a fog so thick you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. I remember how the smog used to seep into the house through the gaps in the windows. You could almost touch it.

    I had two older brothers, Brian and Michael. My father had died from TB when I was two. Mum then married a wonderful man, Fredrick Thom, and they had a daughter, Jacqueline. Many years later I would discover I also had an older sister, Alison, who had been adopted and lived in Canada. Fred then took on the role of Dad in the household to us three boys and Jackie.

    Montague Street, now a classy row of hotels, was mostly privately owned but included a small row of council properties. All the council places had their own small gardens that were divided from the main garden by an 8 feet high wire fence presumably to stop the riff raff escaping. It didn’t stop me and my friends throwing stones and smashing the windows on the opposite side of the garden though. Unluckily for me I was the only one of my friends who had red hair, so I was the only one who ever got caught. Dad always had to go and fix all the windows, so I’d get a right royal telling off.

    Most of my time was spent playing on bombsites or being chased from the local park in Russell Square. We weren’t welcome in the more well to do areas. Obviously around that time money was always in short supply, so we’d try and get a few bob however we could. I remember the council changed the streetlights from white to an orange colour, and I

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