The diaries of Mal Evans

Mal Evans with the Beatles in Sweden, 1963.

Malcolm Frederick “Mal” Evans (27 May 1935 – 5 January 1976) was best known as the road manager, assistant, and a friend of the Beatles.

In the early 1960s, Evans was employed as a telephone engineer, and also worked part-time as a bouncer at the Cavern Club. The Beatles’ manager, Brian Epstein, later hired Evans as the group’s assistant road manager, in tandem with Neil Aspinall. Peter Brown (one of Epstein’s staff) later wrote that Evans was “a kindly, but menacing-looking young man”. Evans contributed to recordings, and appeared in some of the films the group made. After The Beatles stopped touring in 1966, Evans carried on assisting them until their break-up in 1970. From 1969, Evans also found work as a record producer (most notably with Badfinger’s top 10 hit “No Matter What”).

Evans remained at Apple until Allen Klein fired him in 1970, although he was later reinstated at the behest of McCartney, Harrison and Starr. He separated from his wife Lily in 1973, and moved to Los Angeles, where he lived with a girlfriend, Fran Hughes. There he worked on his memoirs, Living The Beatles Legend, which he was to have delivered to his publishers on 12 January 1976.

On the night of 5 January, Evans became despondent at his rented apartment at 8122 W 4th Street. Worried by his behaviour, Hughes called his collaborator on the book, John Hoernie. During a conversation with Hoernie, Evans picked up a gun, brandishing it in a threatening manner. The weapon has variously been reported as an air rifle or an unloaded .30-30 rifle.

Fran Hughes called the LAPD, telling him Evans was confused, had taken Valium, and had a gun. Four policemen arrived shortly afterwards. Two of them, David D Krempa and Robert E Brannon, went in the upstairs room to talk to Evans. He was told to drop the gun but refused. The police fired six shots at Evans, four of which hit him. He died instantly. Mal Evans was cremated in Los Angeles on 7 January 1976. His ashes were lost in the post on their journey to England, but were later recovered. Upon learning of the lost remains, John Lennon joked: “They should look in the dead letter file”. None of the former Beatles attended his funeral, but Harry Nilsson and other friends did. Harrison arranged for Evans’ family to receive £5,000, as Evans had not maintained his life insurance premiums, and was not entitled to a pension.

Mal Evans began the 1960s as a Post Office engineer in Liverpool. By the end of the decade, he’d appeared in three out of five Beatles films and was an occasional musician on their albums. It was Mal playing the organ on Rubber Soul, Mal who sounded the alarm clock in A Day in the Life. On Abbey Road, it was Mal, not Maxwell, who banged the Silver Hammer.

Part of the Beatles’ small but exceptionally protective inner sanctum, Mal was one of just two witnesses at Paul McCartney’s first wedding. Among the hundreds of claimants to that threadbare title “fifth Beatle”, he was arguably the most deserving. Wherever the Beatles went, Mal would never be far behind.

In the 10 years he spent as their road manager, Mal was blessed with a greater insight than most into the group’s spectacular rise, their domination of pop in the middle years, and their painful implosion in a welter of recriminations. Throughout the decade, he kept a series of diaries and wrote an unpublished autobiography; all of this has until now remained unseen, part of an archive that went missing when Mal himself died in bizarre circumstances in 1976.

10 years after Mal’s death, Yoko Ono was told about a trunk full of his effects that had been found by a temp clearing out files in the basement of a New York publisher; she arranged for them to be shipped back to his family in London. Among those effects were the diaries, which his widow, Lily, kept for years in an attic at her home.  In 1992, Lennon’s original pages of lyrics to “A Day in the Life” were sold by the Evans estate for £56,600 at Sotheby’s, in London, to an unknown collector. Other lyrics collected by Evans have been subject to legal action over the years: In 1996, McCartney went to the High Court in England and prevented the sale of the original lyrics to “With a Little Help from My Friends” that Evans’ widow Lily had tried to sell, by claiming that the lyrics were collected by Evans as a part of his duties and belonged to the individual Beatles.

A notebook in which McCartney wrote the lyrics for “Hey Jude” was sold in 1998 at an auction for £111,500. The notebook also contains lyrics for “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” and “All You Need Is Love”. It also contains lyrics, notes, drawings and poems by Lennon, McCartney, Harrison, and Starr, as well as by Evans.

A suitcase that Evans was carrying at the time of his death, which was supposed to contain unreleased recordings, photos and other memorabilia, was lost by the police during the investigation and became known as the lost “Mal Evans Archive”. It was reported in June 2004 that an English tourist, Frasier Claughton, bought the suitcase for $36 at a flea market just outside of Melbourne, Australia; unaware of its contents. By August 2004, experts had determined that the documents within the suitcase were photocopies made in the 1990s, and declared the supposed archive a fake.

In 2005, extracts from Mal Evans’ diaries were published in the Times. Together with some photographs, most of them taken by Mal himself, they amount to a fascinating collection: the unwitting historic recollections of a Forrest Gump of a man, who by sheer good fortune ended up in the right place at the right time. Here are these extracts.

The story, inevitably, begins in Liverpool. A keen rock’n’roll fan, Mal would while away what he called his “extended lunchtimes” at the Cavern Club before putting in a brief appearance at the Post Office and then heading off to his house in Hillside Road, Mossley Hill.

In 1961 he had married a local girl, Lily, whom he had met at the funfair at New Brighton. Their first child, Gary, was born in the same year. Mal’s life was settled, mundane and ordinary; nobody could have predicted that the bizarre twists and turns of his life in the next 15 years would lead to a premature and avoidable death at the hands of the police in California.

At the Cavern, Mal was soon noticed by the Beatles, who had a lunchtime residency at the club. George Harrison felt that Mal, at 6ft 3in, would make an ideal bouncer. He was also of an exceptionally gentle disposition, and Harrison was canny enough to realise that this too would be useful in the years ahead.

In the first few pages of his 1963 Post Office Engineering Union-issue diary, which includes information about Ohm’s law and Post Office pay rates, he reflects upon his good fortune. Looking back on the previous year, he writes: “1962 a wonderful year… Could I wish for more beautiful wife, Gary, house, car… guess I was born with a silver canteen of cutlery in my mouth. Wanted a part time job for long time — now bouncing… Lost a tooth in 1962.”

With this, Mal sets the tone. We soon find he is more Pooter than Pepys. As the Beatles’ road manager — and trusted implicitly by all four — he is presented with an “access all areas” ticket to one of the best parties of the century. Yet somehow he never quite realises it.

The year 1963 is crucial for the Beatles, ergo for Mal. At the start of the year it is becoming clear that working with them, particularly on tour, is a more engaging diversion for him than family life in Mossley Hill. The band, now managed by Brian Epstein, are beginning to realise their potential. Mal drives them to London for one of their early BBC appearances, and later they make the most of the capital.

January 21, 1963: “Lads went shopping. Paul and George bought slacks. George a shirt in Regent St. This was before the Sat Club recording and we lost them for a while. Back to Lower Regent Studios for recording talent spot. Met Patsy Ann Noble, Rog Whittaker, Gary Marshall, a really good show. Also on the bill was a Birkenhead singer. At about 8.15 the boys went to Brians room in the Mayfair for a Daily Mail interview. I parked the gear and joined them later… We left London at about 10 o’clock, stopping at ‘Fortes’ on M1 for large dinner — bought by the Beatles — and so homeward bound. Met a lot of fog… suddenly after leaving M1 short time windscreen cracked with a terrible bang. Had to break hole in windscreen to see… Stopped for tea at transport cafe… and arrived home at about five o’clock. I was up at 7.45 but lads laid in till about five that night. Lucky devils. They were on that night at Cavern as fresh as ever with no after effects. The Beatles have certainly gone up in my estimation. They are all great blokes with a sense of humour and giving one the feeling they are a real team.”

For much of the early 1960s, touring became Mal’s life. Against the wishes of Lily, left at home with Gary, Mal gave up his job at the Post Office in order to be at the Beatles’ beck and call full time, clocking up industrial levels of mileage driving from Liverpool to London. He was also expected to attend to almost every personal whim.

John Lennon, who had a predilection for enigmatic silences, would punctuate these with murmured requests such as “Socks, Mal” — at which point Mal would scoot off to Marks & Spencer to fetch six pairs in navy cotton.

By the spring of that year, Beatlemania was under way; Mal and Neil Aspinall, another old friend from Liverpool, accompanied the Beatles on all of their tours, making up what was an astonishingly pared-down entourage. Aspinall still runs the Beatles’ Apple organisation.

The Beatles’ first European tour began in Paris in January 1964. The ever-loyal Mal was on hand, this time accompanied by Lily and their young son. Mal writes about a “big punch-up” with photographers in Paris. In the manuscript of his unpublished book he recalls that this was “the only fight I got involved in on behalf of the Beatles” — although he was terrified when he and the band were nearly beaten up by Ferdinand Marcos’s thugs in Manila in 1966.

To mark the news in 1964 that the Beatles had reached No 1 in the US for the first time, Mal writes that Epstein threw a party at the hotel. Some journalists then hired prostitutes to provide a lesbian show for the Beatles in the room next to Epstein’s. “It was a little unnerving to have these ladies performing before our eyes with each other in one room, with Brian, George Martin and his wife and the rather more staid members of the press in the adjoining living room. I guess celebration caters to everybody’s different tastes.”

With Beatlemania in full swing, Mal seems strangely oblivious: there is no sense in any of the diaries that he is working for the most famous, most successful pop stars of the time. But odd, intimate little moments are recorded:

March 18, 1964: “Had plastic cups in top pocket — milk poured in by George. John says after sarnies: Mal you are my favourite animal.”

After two further exhausting years on the road, the Beatles were ready to give up touring: the whole tiresome process had ceased to be of interest to the group. The Beatles, and Mal, for that matter, were just about worn out.

But there was now a larger role for Mal as a studio “fixer”: as the music became more complicated, he was dealing with an increasingly outlandish inventory of instruments and equipment, and he sometimes contributed as a musician. More than any other year so far, 1967 presented Mal and the Beatles with undreamt-of possibilities: it was the year of satin tunics, Carnaby Street and Sgt Pepper; the band was at its creative, cohesive peak. On a more mundane level, Paul found himself without a housekeeper at his house in St John’s Wood — so Mal moved in with him. Mal writes of this time fondly, but complains of Paul’s dog, Martha, fouling the beds.

Within a few months, Mal had moved his family — his second child, Julie, had been born in 1966 — from Liverpool to Sunbury-on-Thames, about equidistant from Paul’s house and the homes of the other three in the Surrey stockbroker belt — another indication of how he’d let the band take over his life. Mal was also beginning to enjoy some of the more illicit aspects of the mid-1960s rock’n’roll lifestyle.

January 1, 1967: “Well diary — hope it will be a great 1967. Have not slept… Friday night’s recording session and journey to Liverpool. Late afternoon went over to the McCartneys in Wirral, and had dinner with them. Paul and Jane [Asher, McCartney’s then girlfriend] had travelled up for the New Year — also Martha. Fan belt broke.”

January 19 and 20: “Ended up smashed in Bag O’ Nails with Paul and Neil. Quite a number of people attached themselves, oh that it would happen to me… freak out time baby for Mal.

“Eventually I spewed but this because of omelette I reckon. I was just nowhere floating around. Slept till 5pm. Flowers arrived for George for his anniversary tomorrow. Made up yesterday with new number for I’m counting on it and ringing alarm [he is referring to A Day in the Life, Sgt Pepper’s closing opus]. So George came back to flat for tea tonight that is before we went home. He was in bedroom reading International Times. I was asleep on bed, very bad mannered. Left for home with Neil driving… On M6, starter jammed. 10/- to free it. Hertz van still no comfort… I spent some time in rest room.”

Mal’s diary describes the recording of the Sgt Pepper album in some detail, referring to the song Fixing a Hole as “where the rain comes in”. But there are soon signs that he is beginning to feel a little hard done by.

The rest of 1967 was as busy for Mal as it was for the Beatles: the overblown, complicated Sgt Pepper was time-consuming. As soon as it was completed, Mal flew with Paul to LA to see Jane Asher, who was touring with the Old Vic company. The three took a trip to the Rockies and returned to LA by private jet. Mal took up the story:

“We left Denver in Frank Sinatra’s Lear Jet, which he very kindly loaned us. A beautiful job with dark black leather upholstery and, to our delight, a well-stocked bar.”

When they arrived, they went to Michelle and John Phillips’s [of the Mamas and the Papas] house and Brian Wilson [of the Beach Boys] came round. Mal writes of joining in on a guitar for a rendition of On Top of Old Smokey with Paul and Wilson. Mal, however, was not impressed by Wilson’s avant-garde tendencies; at the time he was putting together the Smile album. “Brian then put a damper on the spontaneity of the whole affair by walking in with a tray of water-filled glasses, trying to arrange it into some sort of session.” Mal wasn’t keen on glass harmonicas — he would have preferred Elvis.

When they returned in April 1967, the Beatles began work on what was to become the ill-fated Magical Mystery Tour project. The band, with Paul taking an increasingly dominant role, was showing signs of stress. Mal wrote:

“I would get requests from the four of them to do six different things at one time and it was always a case of relying on instinct and experience in awarding priorities. They used to be right sods for the first few days until they realised that everything was going to go smoothly and they could get into the routine of recording… Then I would find time between numerous cups of tea and salad sandwiches and baked beans on toast to listen to the recording in the control room.”

Once they’d completed the recording, Mal, Neil and their families were whisked to Greece by the Beatles at George Harrison’s expense. They spent a month under sunny skies on a wooden yacht in the Aegean. By their return, however, darker clouds were forming on the horizon. Before the summer was out, Epstein was dead after an overdose. Without his guiding hand, the Beatles plunged further into the chaotic Magical Mystery Tour project. As ever, Mal was a crucial element, organising the coach tour that formed the centrepiece of the film, recruiting actors and extras, then flying to Nice with Paul to film the Fool on the Hill sequence.

According to Mal, this trip, as did many, took place on an impulse; without luggage or papers. Paul sailed through immigration with no passport, but they were refused entry to the hotel restaurant because they didn’t look the part. They headed off to a nightclub. “We had dinner in my room… The only money we had between us had been spent on clothes, on the understanding that money was to be forwarded from England by the Beatles office. After the first round of drinks… we arranged with the manager for us to get credit.”

The next day, Mal and Paul returned to the club. “We took advantage of our credit standing, as money had still not arrived from England. News about Paul’s visit to the club the previous night had spread, and the place was jammed. Now Paul, being a generous sort of person, had built up quite a bar bill, when the real manager of the club arrived demanding that we pay immediately. On explaining who Paul was and what had happened, he answered, ‘You either pay the bill, or I call the police.’ It certainly looked like we were going to get thrown in jail. It was ironical, sitting in a club with a millionaire, unable to pay the bill.” Eventually the hotel manager agreed to cover the money.Paul and Mal returned to London, where Paul was to edit the film. But it was panned by the critics when televised that Christmas.

The year 1968 saw the genesis of Apple, the group’s trip to Rishikesh in the Himalayas at the invitation of the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi — and increasing tensions.

By the time the band arrives in India, Mal is already there, having carried out a recce a few days earlier. Ringo demands a doctor as soon as he gets off the plane. From Mal’s memoir from February: “‘Mal, my arm’s killing me, please take me to a doctor right away.’ So off we go looking for one, our driver leaving us to a dead end in the middle of a field, soon to be filled with press cars as they blindly follow us; so we explain to them that it’s only Ringo’s inoculation giving him trouble. When we arrived at the local hospital, I tried to get immediate treatment for him, to be told curtly by the Indian doctor, ‘He is not a special case and will have to wait his turn.’ So off we go to pay a private doctor ten rupees for the privilege of hearing him say it will be all right.”

The Beatles, accompanied by an entourage that included Mia Farrow, Donovan and the Beach Boy Mike Love, write half a dozen songs in India, most of which are to end up on the White Album they release later that year. Mal’s diary comments favourably on the sense of karma that seemed to have settled upon them. “It is hard to believe that a week has already passed. I suppose the peace of mind and the serenity one achieves through meditation makes the time fly.” He even enjoyed the food, unlike Ringo, who famously turned up with a case of baked beans.

But the tranquillity does not last. “Suddenly… excitement… Ringo wants to leave… Maureen can’t stand the flies any longer.” Mal himself spent a month in India, before returning to London to help out with the White Album sessions.

Later in the year, Mal travels to New York with George. They go to visit Bob Dylan and the Band, who are rehearsing at Big Pink, the Band’s upstate retreat.

November 28: “Up at 10.30 into Woodstock… To Bob [Dylan] for Thanksgiving. Meet Levon [Helm] of the band, he is drummer plays great guitar. Around the table after turkey, cranberry sauce etc. & also Pecan pie. Bob, George, Rich, Happy, Levon… around the guitars while many children play; Sarah [Dylan] great — turkey sandwich & beer. To Richard [Manuel] & Garths [Hudson] home for farm sessions — home to bed.”

At this point, Mal’s 1968 diary comes to an end; it has been an action-packed year with two hit singles and a sprawling double album — but the Beatles are no longer a cohesive unit.

In the midst of a miserably cold winter, the band and Mal set off for Twickenham Studios, where they are to start work on the project that is to become Let It Be, a filmed record of the Beatles at work. Already there is discord within the group, and in front of the cameras they begin to disintegrate; from Mal we also get the first murmurings of real discontent.

January 13, 1969: “Paul is really cutting down on the Apple staff members. I was elevated to office boy [Mal had briefly been made MD of Apple] and I feel very hurt and sad inside — only big boys don’t cry. Why I should feel hurt and reason for writing this is ego… I thought I was different from other people in my relationship with the Beatles and being loved by them and treated so nice, I felt like one of the family. Seems I fetch and carry. I find it difficult to live on the £38 I take home each week and would love to be like their other friends who buy fantastic homes and have all the alterations done by them, and are still going to ask for a rise. I always tell myself — look, everybody wants to take from, be satisfied, try to give and you will receive. After all this time I have about £70 to my name, but was content and happy. Loving them as I do, nothing is too much trouble, because I want to serve them. “Feel a bit better now — EGO?”

The Let It Be film is to feature the Beatles in what is to become their last public performance, on the rooftop of the Apple office building in London’s Savile Row. Squabbles put to one side, the band, accompanied by Billy Preston on keyboards, are clearly enjoying themselves. Mal is unusually perky too.

January 24, 1969: “Skiffling ‘Maggie May’; Beatles really playing together. Atmosphere is lovely in the studio — everyone seems so much happier than of recent times.”

January 27: “Today we had the engineer to look at the roof of No. 3. 5lbs sq. in is all it will take weight wise. Needs scaffolding to make platform. Getting helicopter for shot of roof. Should get good shot of crowds in street, who knows police might try to stop us. Asked Alistair [Taylor, Apple office manager] to get toasted sandwich machine.”

January 29: “Show on the roof of Apple. 4 policemen kept at bay for 40 minutes while the show goes on.”

With the Beatles in free fall, Mal busies himself with jobs for other Apple artists and fetching and carrying for individual Beatles. Throughout the 1960s he and Paul had an affinity, and in March 1969, Mal was one of just two witnesses at Paul’s wedding to Linda Eastman in London. The same day, George Harrison’s home is raided for drugs.

March 13: “Big drama, last night about 7.30pm Pattie rang the office from home for George to say ‘8 or 10 policeman including Sergeant Pilcher had arrived with search warrants looking for cannabis’. George went home with Derek and lawyer, and was released on £200 bail each.”

Mal, meanwhile, has financial worries.

April 24: “Had to tell George — ‘I’m broke’. Really miserable and down because I’m in the red, and the bills are coming in, poor old Lil suffers as I don’t want to get a rise. Not really true don’t want to ask for a rise, fellows are having a pretty tough time as it is.”

The Beatles record their last album, Abbey Road, in the summer of that year. Mal’s diaries note that four alternative titles were mooted before the band settled on a title that celebrated the home of EMI studios. “Titles suggested: Four in the Bar; All Good Children Go to Heaven; Turn Ups; Inclinations.” Mal helps with John’s Instant Karma, but he is finding Paul distant.

The next year, 1970, sees the Beatles continuing with their solo projects. The band is no longer recording together.

January 27: “Seem to be losing Paul — really got the stick from him today.”

February 4: “To bed at 4.30am to rise at 7.45 to help get the children dressed… Lil had a driving lesson at 8am, then driving test at 9am which she passed. Bed after a couple of hours. Feel a cold coming on again. Walk into office late afternoon to meet Ringo go to shake he says ‘Give us a cuddle then’ its worth a million pounds that is and feel really recharged. George & Steve bass & guitar. Nanette. Ringo Drums.”

February 5: “Bed this morning late. Up at 1 to phone. Conversation with Paul, something like this: ‘Malcolm Evans’ ‘Yeah Paul’ ‘I’ve got the EMI [Abbey Road studio] over this weekend — I would like you to pick up some gear from the house’ ‘Great man, that’s lovely. Session at EMI?’ ‘Yes but I don’t want any one there to make me tea, I have the family, wife and kids there.'”

Mal clearly took Paul’s distance to heart. There was now no group to look after. Mal continued to work with John, Ringo and George on their solo efforts and with the small stable of Apple musicians he had helped to build up. But for him, the adventure was pretty much over. When the Beatles broke up, there was a very strong chance that he would too.

Mal remained an employee of Apple until 1974, when he moved to LA, ostensibly to work as a record producer. He left Lily and the children the same year, moving in with Fran Hughes, whom he had met at the Record Plant studio in Los Angeles. The split from Lily had depressed Mal, and it was clear that he continued to miss the family, long after he walked out on them. Neither his family nor the Beatles, his second family, were now close. “The times I had with him were brilliant. He was an extraordinary person,” says his son, Gary. “But from the moment he met the Beatles to the moment he died, he wanted to live two parallel lives. He would have lived six months in the States and six months here if he’d been able to get away with it.”

On the morning of January 5, 1976, exactly two years after Mal had walked out, Lily took a call from Neil Aspinall. He told her that Mal had been shot in LA. “I immediately thought he’d been shot in a bank,” says Lily. “I had to wake up the kids and tell them. I didn’t know he was low. He must have been missing the kids, depressed.”

Mal had been killed by an officer of the Los Angeles Police Department, who had been called to a disturbance at his home in LA after it had been reported that he had been brandishing a weapon, which may or may not have been an air rifle. Fran had called the police. Gary believes he was drinking heavily and may have been on cocaine at the time: “It was all part of the rock’n’roll, ’70s lifestyle.” Gary added that he thinks his father may have been behaving like that in the knowledge that even if he was unwilling to end his own life, the LA police would show no such hesitance.

George arranged for Mal’s family to receive £5,000 on his death; he had no pension and he had not kept up his life-assurance premiums. Lily and Gary have met Paul twice to discuss the ownership of some Beatles lyrics Mal had tidied up, which she wanted to sell. Paul appears to have reached generous out-of-court settlements with her. Over the years, the Mal Evans archive has dwindled as Lily has been forced to sell other parts of it piecemeal.

As she looks back on the 1960s, Lily regrets the amount of time Mal gave up for the Beatles, but has fond memories: she and the children adored the huge firework parties that Ringo organised at his homes in Weybridge and Ascot. For Gary, who was 14 when his father died, memories of the 1960s are also bittersweet. “The Greek holiday was wonderful… There were good times interspersed among the ‘Where is he’s?'”

“I’d go to school on the Monday, and the teacher would say, “What did you do at the weekend?’ I’d say, ‘I went round to John Lennon’s house.’ I thought that was normal. Sometimes I found it all a bit too much. I’d be picked up from school by my dad in Lennon’s psychedelic Rolls-Royce, He’d be wearing a cowboy hat, surrounded by kids. I thought, ‘I don’t need this.'”

Ultimately, Gary remains disappointed about the fact that the Beatles did not make proper provision for his father or his family. When Mal left, Lily had to return to work to pay the mortgage and keep the children going. “It was very tight,” Gary recalls. “We were on free school meals. It’s very galling when you look back at what my dad’s input was into that band and we ended up like that.” We asked Sir Paul McCartney to comment, but a spokesperson said he was “unavailable”.

It’s difficult to properly evaluate Mal’s contribution to the Beatles, but for a long period he was regarded as indispensable. He was trusted, universally liked and desperately loyal: his diaries give away no indiscretions, though he would certainly have been party to them. Even Lily acknowledges that “he would have had a few flings”. But none of that bothered her: she always seemed more concerned that he was “too nice for his own good” and that the band would treat him “like a dishcloth”.

If he had followed her advice and remained a Post Office engineer in Mossley Hill, he would have missed out on Sgt Pepper, the Beatles in India and his meetings with Elvis, his hero. And his passing, too, in the sprawling suburbs of Los Angeles, might also have turned out to be just a little less rock’n’roll.