Невероятная и явно высосанная из пальца очередная байка:
In August 1962, I made a little film with four unknown kids playing in a Liverpool cellar. I was a very raw recruit to TV, working on a local news programme in Manchester, and I'd been asked to find something to contrast with the Brighouse and Rastrick Brass Band. A friend told me to contact a man called Brian Epstein. I thought Epstein was surprisingly dapper for a rock manager, but he led me to a dingy basement in the city centre - "The Cavern Club" Epstein told me. The music roared up to meet me as we felt our way down the stairs - and I got my first sight of The Beatles.
This was not my music. I was - and still am - a modern jazz fan. But the visceral thrill of the not-yet Fab Four punched me in the stomach. I was hooked. In the pub afterwards, Paul McCartney said to me: "It must be dead glamorous working in TV". On the way home, still high on the assault of that music, I had to stop my car and be sick in a ditch.
