I wrote this incredibly long answer to your question here, and then asksed to "preview it" and when I went to fix something before sending it off....it disappeared!! (so did the last 1/2 hour of my life...)
To put it all in a nutshell: I DID have this happen to me too..and it was heartbreaking at the time. I was 15 years old - summer of 1965 - looking forward to seeing the Beatles for the second time in concert at the Hollywood Bowl (that part did work out...and was wonderful!!) When the Beatles arrived in Los Angeles, a friend and I wrote a little "ditty" (poem) to the tune of George Harrison's song "You Like Me Too Much" and sent it to them - in a telegram - to where the Beatles were staying at an address up in one of the Hollywood Canyon's (I think it was Coldwater or Benedict) The "Official Beatles" radio station back then was KRLA and Dave Hull was the biggest Beatles disc jockey on the air. He told everyone where they were staying, and that's how we knew the address (he was fired, by the way, on and off for a couple of years for things like that - but always reinstated when the Beatles fans complained loudly enough..he was like one of us..just nutz...!!) We had a 'Beatles Party' (overnight slumber) a day or so before the concert, about 6 of us - dyed in the wool Beatles fans - and the morning after our sleepover we were finishing breakfast when my mother called me. She said someone named "Malcolm Evans" had called me and asked to speak with me or my friend (my name was first on the telegram and my telephone number was the end of the poem..it rhymed with it!!) He said that the Beatles (never stated which one'(s) had enjoyed the telegram and thought it was funny. They wanted to meet us!!!! I've never been so shocked in my life, my mother didn't even know who Malcolm Evans' was at the time, but she said he had a nice voice and an english accent. She said he sounded about 35 or 40 years old. To make a long story longer, I asked her what to do and she said she had given Mr. Evans the phone number to the party where I was, and he said he'd taken it down and that he'd call back in a little while. My mother didn't really know if he was going to call me where I was or where I lived again, so I just took a shot in the dark and all of us got rides back to my place to wait. Well, you can imagine what happened. When we arrived at my house - about 25 min's later, my mother said the girls father (where we had the party) called while we were driving back, and that Malcolm Evans HAD taken the other number and called me there while I was enroute to my home. I thought I'd DIE!!!!!!!!!!! Her father told Malcolm that we were on our way back to my house to wait for his call, and asked if he would please call there again, and Malcolm said he'd try. In the meantime he asked for my address and said he'd try to send us some kind of 'token' - like the key they were using at the house there when they left - and asked my address; so Jamie's father gave it to him. Long tale...we waited...6 long faces and mine the saddest of all - the rest of the afternoon for that third call, but it never came. I don't think I've ever recovered from that disappointment; it was so upsetting I remember crying finally out of frustration. I wasn't the only one who cried, we all took turns. And, may I add - I never got any key. God rest his soul, I have told this story to my kids and showed everyone I've ever watched "Help" with "that man coming out of the water at the end with the bathing cap on" once called me on the phone - twice!!! It's something...:\ So ends the saga... Thanks for listening.. Eidann . --- In [email protected], "Rick" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > > Have you ever had a encounter where he/she ALMOST HAD/ACTUALLY DID HAVE > a personal contact with one of the Beatles? I was at the Weston Great > Southern Hotel in Columbus Ohio after a meter maid (no kidding) told me > Paul McCartney's crew was staying there. I thought I would go down > there & spend the afternoon waiting for Paul to pass through the lobby > before the concert. I sat there for 2 hours hearing men with English > accents go up to the hotel front desk. I even hopped the elevator they > were using. I wrote a note inviting Paul for tea at our house & left > one on each floor of the hotel. Back in the lobby, I could swear a > woman looking like Heather went into the hotel bar for a drink. I asked > a man passing through the lobby (he had the English accent) if he could > pass a note to Paul with my address & phone. He said, " I can't do > that, we are not permitted." Anyone else almost make contact? Did you > barely miss your dream come true? > > Rick Linville [EMAIL PROTECTED] > http://launch.groups.yahoo.com/group/BeatlefansDocumentary/ > BritInvasion archived at <http://www.escribe.com/music/britinvasion>, <http://www.mail-archive.com/britinvasion%40onelist.com>, and <http://www.listquest.com/lq/search.html?ln=britinvasion>. Home page: <http://home.hiwaay.net/~emilyj/britinvasion/>. Yahoo! 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