The Twenty-First-Century Legacy of the Beatles

Liverpool and Popular Music Heritage Tourism

Michael Brocken

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2016
• ISBN:
  9781317012900
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Mezzi di comunicazione e arti performative
• Subtopic: Musica rock

It has taken Liverpool almost half a century to come to terms with the musical, cultural and now economic legacy of the Beatles and popular music. At times the group was negatively associated with sex and drugs images surrounding rock music: deemed unacceptable by the city fathers, and unworthy of their support. Liverpudlian musicians believe that the musical legacy of the Beatles can be a burden, especially when the British music industry continues to brand the latest (white) male group to emerge from Liverpool as 'the next Beatles'. Furthermore, Liverpudlians of perhaps differing ethnicities find images of 'four white boys with guitars and drums' not only problematic in a 'musical roots' sense, but for them culturally devoid of meaning and musically generic. The musical and cultural legacy of the Beatles remains complex. In a post-industrial setting in which both popular and traditional heritage tourism have emerged as providers of regular employment on Merseyside, major players in what might be described as a Beatles music tourism industry have constructed new interpretations of the past and placed these in such an order as to re-confirm, re-create and re-work the city as a symbolic place that both authentically and contextually represents the Beatles.

Chapter 1
‘There’s a Place’: Travel, Tourism, Liverpool and the Beatles

It is the heart of a rambling metropolitan wilderness they call Merseyside […] And now they’ve been asked to sell Merseyside to the tourists.

(Ian Craig, local government editor, Liverpool Echo Citizen’s Guide ’78)

Travel has always existed, and although ‘tourism’ is a relatively new word it does not by any means represent a new activity. In the days of the apostle Paul, pilgrims would visit Ephesus in what is now Turkey specifically to worship the pagan god Artemis; a thriving trade in pocket-sized icons as mementos of the visit even existed. During the Renaissance the idea of the European Grand Tour developed and can be credited to the appearance in seventeenth-century Western Europe of law and order, and the emergence of echelons of statesmen, merchants, and scholars, who became interested in educating themselves via the medium of travel. At the core of ‘the Tour’ was a notion of Culture, which tended to emphasize the literary, archaeological, religious, and artistic superiority of European culture and Christian historiography. Travel, it seemed, improved one’s mind – as long as one’s mind thought the right thoughts in the right geographical places. Sometimes music was involved: for example, if tourists attended a concert or acquired a new musical skill, but it appears that music was not usually the central focus of ‘the Tour’, for the wealthy were able to commission their music from craftsmen musicians who for a fee might (according to Koch’s instructions) produce a recognizable sonata or minuet or two. Gradually, ‘the Tour’ began to focus on recreation in addition to education and these conventions continued relatively unabated for those who could afford such pleasures. By the eighteenth century the Grand Tour had become a prominent feature of English upper-class education. C.P. Hill writes:

The ‘grand tour’ of Europe [was] undertaken by young men of wealth, accompanied often by learned scholars as their tutors. It was a long and leisurely enterprise of many months or years; it took them especially to France, the most civilized country in the world, and to Italy with its Roman remains, its Renaissance traditions and its opera; and it made the rulers of 18th century England citizens of Europe in a way that few Englishmen have been since.¹

Napoleon Bonaparte’s domination of Europe put a temporary halt to this; however, in England the cult of the ‘picturesque’ gathered momentum. There was an apparently almost inexhaustible appetite for designing, viewing, drawing and writing about ruined abbeys and castles, which during the Regency period almost reached cult status. Humphry Repton became renowned for his picturesque landscape designs and was commissioned by the Duke of Bedford to create a garden ‘wonderland’. He also designed gardens at Russell Square and many would travel to see his work. But such reworkings of the English landscape into idylls was seen by some as faintly ridiculous and Thomas Rowlandson’s 1812 satirical engravings issued under the title of The Tour of Dr Syntax in Search of the Picturesque attained a fifth edition by 1813 (this was followed in 1820 by Dr Syntax in Search of Consolation, and in 1821 by the Third Tour of Dr Syntax in Search of a Wife).²

Literally the very day following Bonaparte’s defeat at Waterloo tourists were making their way from Brussels to the battlefield; post-Waterloo, European tourism began again in earnest, supported by innumerable travelogues. As such, by the nineteenth century, spas and spa towns became important tourist destinations and those in more remote areas of Europe were especially popular with the British. Once the shift had taken place from ‘enlightenment’ and ‘education’ to recreation and health, music began to play a greater role in tourism and spas, and resorts came to offer a wide variety of musical presentations (e.g. at Sydney Gardens in Bath, where subscribers might be entertained by breakfasts, illuminations, and music for 7/6d).³ The health benefits of travel and leisure were evident and, via the growth of railways in the 1830s, even a few of Britain’s working classes were able to travel, if not abroad, then (with a degree of employer enlightenment) certainly at home. For example, John Dodgson Carr, the Carlisle biscuit-maker had commenced such outings for his workers in 1840. His entire workforce, together with his own family, would set out via rail to enjoy a day in the country entirely at Carr’s expense. John Carr’s travel-based philanthropy illustrates in one sense that, at least in the United Kingdom, a growing democratization of leisure-based travel became associated with certain aspects of the Industrial Revolution (some writers even refer to the UK as perhaps the first European country to promote ideas about the relationship of time with leisure⁴). This might be further emphasized by the development of ‘mass’ printing techniques and its connections with popular music and leisure. For example, the infamous murder of Maria Marten in 1828 was publicized throughout England not only by means of gory newspaper articles, but also via ‘broadsides’ – printed songs (‘ballads’) sold on the streets for pennies. For the hanging of Marten’s murderer William Corder at Bury St Edmunds, a huge crowd of tourists flooded into the town. Thereafter the ‘Red Barn’ where the murder had taken place in the village of Polstead also became a tourist attraction and the barn was stripped by souvenir hunters. The music ballads remained popular throughout the next century and one in particular, entitled ‘The Murder of Maria Marten’, continues to be performed to this day.

A landmark in the history of British tourism history is that snapshot of Britain in the 1860s, Bradshaw’s Handbook. This volume was produced just as the British railway network was reaching its zenith. It was the first tourist guide to specifically encompass railway journeys and to this very day offers a glimpse through the railway carriage window of an at times ghostly and occasionally still locatable British Isles. Such publications concerning the promotion of ‘leisure time’ were initially aimed at the owners and beneficiaries of the means of production; however, as rail travel became increasingly cheaper, such tourist-based oligarchies came to dissipate, furthering the need for ‘Bradshaw’s’. The various volumes of George Bradshaw’s works (which also included a guide to Britain’s canal network) were used and imitated across all echelons of British society at least up until the outbreak of the Great War. Bradshaw’s Handbook is particularly interesting as far as Liverpool is concerned, for it can clearly be seen that by the 1860s Liverpool was attracting hundreds (perhaps thousands) of tourists. In his entry concerning Liverpool, Bradshaw not only draws attention to the city’s fine civic buildings, churches and ‘excellent libraries at the Athenaeum and Lyceum news rooms’, but also describes St James Cemetery as ‘a really attractive spot’ and suggests that the docks are ‘grand lions of the town, [which] extend in one magnificent range of 5 miles along the river’,⁵ and worthy of any visitor’s attention. One might suggest that via Bradshaw we have evidence that Liverpool was a railway tourist attraction a full century before (e.g.) popular music had enticed ITV documentary-maker Daniel Farson⁶ to explore this (by 1963) declining city. Indeed it could be argued that, at least up until WWI, Liverpool’s very wealth was in some part sustained by tourism.

For example, so much had Liverpool’s tourist trade developed by the turn of the century that excursions to the city were de rigueur for many factories. In 1904, Bass, Ratcliff & Gretton – the renowned brewers from Burton-upon-Trent – produced a near 100-page brochure for their workers’ excursion to Liverpool and New Brighton on Friday 15 July of that year. As part of the monograph, an expanded pull-out map of the Liverpool Overhead Railway was included, so that visitors could take advantage of the panoramic views over the docks. Furthermore, the editor stated: ‘Bold Street is perhaps the fashionable [street] where the ladies spend much time inspecting the splendid displays of dresses, millinery etc, in the really fine Establishments – second only to Regent Street, London.’⁷ Moreover, John Belchem, in his discussion of the celebrations surrounding the 700th year of Liverpool’s Royal Charter in 1907, describes the accompanying historical pageant as ‘an early exercise in heritage leisure and tourism, the pageant festivities placed commercial success and enjoyment above authenticity’.⁸ In fact, by the late nineteenth century many UK coastal towns and resorts had become popular for tourism and an integral part of this experience was musical entertainment. On England’s south coast, Brighton was known for its musical beaches, where all kinds of both organized and ad hoc musical activities took place. Brass bands became an important part of many coastal towns’ entertainment programmes, and since brass and silver instruments allowed some mobility, professional bands were formed to tour the country’s resorts.

The railway network expanded dramatically in the 1840s, making the Lancashire coastal towns of Southport, Blackpool and Morecambe prominent as centres of tourism in England. Railway companies were primarily concerned with connecting the industrialized towns and cities of Lancashire and Yorkshire with the Midlands and South; however, passenger lines were soon linking (say) West Yorkshire with the Lancashire coast, making it far easier and cheaper for visitors to travel as holidaymakers. This, in turn, triggered an influx of entertainment-based settlers in such towns. For example, by 1876 Blackpool was incorporated as a borough, governed by its own town council and aldermen, and by 1881 the town was a booming resort with a population of 14,000 and a promenade complete with piers, musical attractions, fortune-tellers, public houses, trams, donkey rides and theatres. By 1901 Blackpool’s population had risen to 47,000, by which time it was cemented in the British psyche as the archetypal seaside resort with an exciting and profitable sound-scape to match. By 1951 the town’s population had grown to 147,000; it was during this post-WWII era that music giant EMI purchased both the Blackpool Tower Company and the Winter Gardens in an attempt to dominate the lucrative music entertainment industry, there.

Paid holidays for most manual workers during the twentieth century came about in various stages between the wars. For example, in 1937 the Holidays-with-Pay Committee began its enquiries. It was found that only 1.5 million workers received paid holidays under recognized collective agreements. Although it would also have to be stated that, in the 1920s, a week’s holiday was standard and most workers were already receiving some kind of paid leave from their work, such arrangements were open to abuse on both sides. The following year (1938) the Holidays-with-Pay Act came into force and by the end of WWII the numbers entitled to one week’s paid holiday under collective agreement or statutory order had reached 14 million. By 1951 the campaign for two weeks’ paid holiday (in addition to six paid public holidays) was in full swing and the latter years of the 1950s witnessed an all-but-universal fortnight’s paid holiday (although many shop workers still struggled to obtain more than a week).

Back in 1945, the general conception of a holiday or tourism for the war-torn British was a week or so to stay within one’s own country, perhaps visiting relatives, or staying in bed-and-breakfast accommodation or a boarding house in a coastal resort such as Blackpool, Frinton, Great Yarmouth, and so on. Such activities probably amounted to a small social revolution in its own right as more than half the adult population of Britain travelled away from home for their holidays, spending an average of £20–25 per head. But even by 1964, issues to do with class were still rearing their ugly head. Harry Hopkins stated:

The furthermost reaches of Devon and Cornwall quickly fell before the new invasion, and as Lancashire accents rang out in some once ‘select’ Devon combe or Cornish cove, the ‘upper middles’ who were determined to remain ‘upper middles’ without defilement or dilution, gathered up their dogs, lavender water and nannies, and began the long retreat to the recesses of Skye or Connemara.⁹

Actually, for some, holidays were not always easy to come by, finance, or indeed accommodate.¹⁰ At Talacre in North Wales, disused British Rail rolling stock, pre-existing temporary buildings and even converted buses were transformed into makeshift holiday accommodation for visiting working-class Liverpudlians, Mancunians and others; Allanah Van El informs us that:

[for example] residences were mainly summer cottages, caravans, or converted buses, not designed to withstand harsh southwesterly gales. Material from the old boathouse was used [post-WWII] to build the New Boathouse Café in the village of Talacre, which was a financial success and the next big step towards creating my family’s pre-war dream: The Point of Ayr Holiday Camp.¹¹

Similar scenes could be found near Canvey Island in Essex, whereas hop-picking in Kent continued unabated as an example of an improvised holiday for many of London’s East Enders, at least up until the late 1960s. So, while many people’s idea of a good time might be a seaside holiday with bucket and spade and enjoying the attractions on the Victorian or Edwardian pier, it should always be noted that leisure pursuits were not available carte blanche during this ‘boom’ period.

Hence, perhaps, the need for Allanah Van El’s holiday camps; once within a holiday camp, campers were not expected to leave the site during their holiday, apart from organized tours, for all accommodation, food and entertainments (including the ubiquitous popular music), were provided, for the price (it was advertised) of a week’s wage. For example, the first Butlins holiday camp was opened in Skegness by Billy Butlin in 1936 following his prior successes in the development of amusement parks. A second camp quickly followed at Clacton in 1938 and construction of a third began at Filey in 1939. With the outbreak of WWII, the sites at Skegness and Clacton were given over for military use and building work at Filey was temporarily halted. During wartime the development of camps at Ayr, Filey and Pwllheli recommenced, but only for military purposes. Following the end of the war in 1945, however, all camps were speedily redesigned for holiday purposes and that year Filey was the first to open as a holiday camp. Further sites opened as holiday camps in 1946 at Skegness and Clacton, with the Ayr and Pwllheli camps appearing in 1947 and Mosney on the east coast of Ireland in 1948. Butlins camps were later joined by those of entrepreneur Fred Pontin and there were also myriad small-time holiday camps dotted around the British coastline (such as the ‘Robin Hood’ camp at Prestatyn in North Wales).

Popular music became vitally important in all such holiday camps: not only as a consequence of the youthful all-singing, all-dancing and general factotum Butlins Redcoats,¹² but also via ubiquitous talent competitions, where many would-be performers attempted to ‘cut their teeth’ in the assorted bars and ballrooms of the Butlins camps. Becoming a Redcoat was seen by some as a way into show business, allowing a budding performer to ‘get his/her musical chops together’ and also become established as a professional for the purposes of joining the Equity trade union. By the late 1950s there was even some evidence that Redcoats were moving up the show business ladder. In 1957, Liverpudlian Redcoat Russ Hamilton recorded a number 2 smash hit in the UK with ‘We Will Make Love’; following which he recorded a number 4 success on the US Billboard charts with the song ‘Rainbow’. During this period Hamilton continued to entertain Butlins guests, and some have suggested that it was Billy Butlin himself who asked Hamilton to record ‘We Will Make Love’. Furthermore, shortly after completing his final summer season as a Redcoat at Pwllheli, part-time Merseysippi Jazz Band vocalist Clinton Ford reached 27 in the UK singles charts in 1959 with a version of the song ‘Old Shep’. Famous British comedians such as Des O’Connor, Jimmy Tarbuck, and Michael Barrymore and comedy writer Jimmy Perry went on to find great success in the entertainment industry, building on the skills they learnt as Redcoats. Many others experienced some degree of success, or at the very least invaluable experience, following appearances at myriad talent competitions at Butlins camps. Liverpool’s Rory Storm and the Hurricanes (featuring drummer Ringo Starr) were booked for a summer season at the Pwlhelli camp after winning the same talent competition from which a young Georgie Fame (Clive Powell) had withdrawn, following his being spotted by reputed London popular musician Rory Blackwell. Fame withdrew from the competition because he felt he was on his way to becoming a professional, and should leave such contests to the ‘amateurs’. In the case of the Hurricanes, so popular were they at Butlins, that their live set was as much a product of the requirements of holidaymakers in Wale...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Contents
• General Editors’ Preface
• Introduction: ‘We Can Work it Out’ – Ideas, Places, Spaces
• 1 ‘There’s a Place’: Travel, Tourism, Liverpool and the Beatles
• 2 ‘No Reply’: Ideas and Identities – a ‘Rocky’ Context for Popular Music Tourism in 1970s Liverpool
• 3 ‘I’ll Follow the Sun’: The Cunard Yanks Narrative and the Beginnings of 1970s Beatles Tourism
• 4 ‘Day Trippers’: Confronting Issues around Popular Music Tourism in 1980s Liverpool
• 5 ‘Across the Universe’ (well, the Atlantic) – Beatle City, Dallas, and Beyond
• 6 ‘The Long and Winding Road’ to The Beatles Story
• 7 ‘Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes’ – Case Studies: The National Trust, Beatle Streets
• 8 ‘Is there anybody going to listen to my story?’ – Guiding, Cavern City Tours, the Replica Cavern and Horizons
• 9 ‘Come Together’: A Future Industry?
• Bibliography
• Index