Tom murray's mad day out with the beatles blad

I This book is a personal account of The Beatles by Tom Murray, reflecting upon the time he spent photographing the band on Sunday, July 28th, 1968.

Starting out, I wanted to be a racing driver!

I wanted to be an actor!

And I wanted to be a photographer!

I was taken to the track because at the time I was too young to drive on the road, much like Formula One driver, Max Verstappen.

You can be a kid and not be allowed to drive on the high street, but at the same time you can belt around a race track with 21 of the most talented young drivers in the world!

I would go to the Jim Russell Racing Driver School and drive my Lotus at the track. Unfortunately, I just didn’t have enough money to be able to drive something that went fast enough, so almost as soon as it began, my dream of becoming a racing driver was over.

I didn’t think I could act. There were a lot of actors I knew, but it all seemed terribly difficult. I could sing, having sung in a choir as a lad, but then one day my voice broke. It went from angelic to something, well, less than angelic. I never sang again.

Faced with no real way of becoming a professional racing driver, no experience in acting, and with a voice that had broken bad rather than good, I decided that I would concentrate on becoming a photographer.

I started out with a Kodak Box Brownie, which I almost immediately managed to lose on a red double-decker number 13 bus. But eventually I got another camera, and I started to take the whole game of photography a bit more seriously.

I applied to the Halstead Gazette, based in Halstead, Essex. The paper came out once a week.

They told me that they didn’t have a full-time position, but if I learnt how to do the printing, they would take me on. This got me out and about taking pictures. After a year and a half the Braintree & Witham Times wrote and asked if I would like to work with Dennis Mansell, FRPS. Tom Murray 1968

(Fellow of the Royal Photographic Society)

Dennis was a fantastic photographer who gave me groundbreaking ideas about working in a neat and tidy way. Back then there was no real way of knowing if you had captured something on film, so Dennis taught me all the practices to make sure, more often than not, that I got what I needed. It revolutionised the way I worked and I was lucky to work with him for 18 months. Beyond that, I worked for the Essex County Standard and the Colchester Gazette, as well as the Braintree & Witham Times.

I This book is a personal account of The Beatles by Tom Murray, reflecting upon the time he spent photographing the band on Sunday, July 28th, 1968.

Starting out, I wanted to be a racing driver!

I wanted to be an actor!

And I wanted to be a photographer!

I was taken to the track because at the time I was too young to drive on the road, much like Formula One driver, Max Verstappen.

You can be a kid and not be allowed to drive on the high street, but at the same time you can belt around a race track with 21 of the most talented young drivers in the world!

I would go to the Jim Russell Racing Driver School and drive my Lotus at the track. Unfortunately, I just didn’t have enough money to be able to drive something that went fast enough, so almost as soon as it began, my dream of becoming a racing driver was over.

I didn’t think I could act. There were a lot of actors I knew, but it all seemed terribly difficult. I could sing, having sung in a choir as a lad, but then one day my voice broke. It went from angelic to something, well, less than angelic. I never sang again.

Faced with no real way of becoming a professional racing driver, no experience in acting, and with a voice that had broken bad rather than good, I decided that I would concentrate on becoming a photographer.

I started out with a Kodak Box Brownie, which I almost immediately managed to lose on a red double-decker number 13 bus. But eventually I got another camera, and I started to take the whole game of photography a bit more seriously.

I applied to the Halstead Gazette, based in Halstead, Essex. The paper came out once a week.

They told me that they didn’t have a full-time position, but if I learnt how to do the printing, they would take me on. This got me out and about taking pictures. After a year and a half the Braintree & Witham Times wrote and asked if I would like to work with Dennis Mansell, FRPS. Tom Murray 1968

(Fellow of the Royal Photographic Society)

Dennis was a fantastic photographer who gave me groundbreaking ideas about working in a neat and tidy way. Back then there was no real way of knowing if you had captured something on film, so Dennis taught me all the practices to make sure, more often than not, that I got what I needed. It revolutionised the way I worked and I was lucky to work with him for 18 months. Beyond that, I worked for the Essex County Standard and the Colchester Gazette, as well as the Braintree & Witham Times.

The one thing that Dennis Mansell said to me early on, and it is perhaps the truest thing ever, was that ‘one day you will see what the camera sees’.

At the time I didn’t really understand what he meant. I thought, ‘well, I am looking through it’.

That’s the thing. I was looking through it. The eye edits automatically. The little bit of glass called the lens doesn’t. This was well before

the age of Photoshop, where mistakes can be erased. Nor did we have the benefit of instant results. But eventually I got so good at knowing what I had taken that I could tell my assistant which numbers on the roll would be the best photographs before the rolls were even processed.

My secret behind the lens, when engaging a subject, is to drivel on at them until they give up ‘pretending’ and then the ‘real them’ eventually comes forward.

The one thing that Dennis Mansell said to me early on, and it is perhaps the truest thing ever, was that ‘one day you will see what the camera sees’.

At the time I didn’t really understand what he meant. I thought, ‘well, I am looking through it’.

That’s the thing. I was looking through it. The eye edits automatically. The little bit of glass called the lens doesn’t. This was well before

the age of Photoshop, where mistakes can be erased. Nor did we have the benefit of instant results. But eventually I got so good at knowing what I had taken that I could tell my assistant which numbers on the roll would be the best photographs before the rolls were even processed.

My secret behind the lens, when engaging a subject, is to drivel on at them until they give up ‘pretending’ and then the ‘real them’ eventually comes forward.

Even Lord Snowdon didn’t know how often we met up to go to the cinema. It was all above board, but we just got on so well. One time we went along to the picture house and the lights came up before the main film, and I started laughing. She asked what was wrong? I said, ‘Someone close by thinks you look a bit like the Queen’s sister.’ She simply turned around to me and said, ‘But I am.’

Usually we would leave before the lights went up, but for some reason we didn’t this time and when Margaret stood up and turned to the lady in question her eyes nearly popped out of her head. ‘Oh, good evening Your Royal Highness,’ she said, bowing in her seat.

She was always so good at practical jokes. I once asked her why she sat on the edge of sofas? She replied, ‘Well, if you are petite like me and the sofa is deep then you can’t get up without using your hands. If you sit on the edge you can always stand up unassisted.’

I seemed to drop into these odd situations around the royals. One time I was at Buckingham Palace, working with Lord Snowdon and I ended up waving at the crowds outside. It was quite surreal. But then afterwards, I was walking down the corridor and a Corgi dog leapt out and started biting at my ankles. As I was gently pushing it off (I am a great animal lover) I heard a voice saying ‘Who are you?’

I looked up and there she was, Her Majesty, The Queen. I told her what had happened and she said,

ng that!’

is always doi e on at th , ry or w ’t on d h ‘O

Even Lord Snowdon didn’t know how often we met up to go to the cinema. It was all above board, but we just got on so well. One time we went along to the picture house and the lights came up before the main film, and I started laughing. She asked what was wrong? I said, ‘Someone close by thinks you look a bit like the Queen’s sister.’ She simply turned around to me and said, ‘But I am.’

Usually we would leave before the lights went up, but for some reason we didn’t this time and when Margaret stood up and turned to the lady in question her eyes nearly popped out of her head. ‘Oh, good evening Your Royal Highness,’ she said, bowing in her seat.

She was always so good at practical jokes. I once asked her why she sat on the edge of sofas? She replied, ‘Well, if you are petite like me and the sofa is deep then you can’t get up without using your hands. If you sit on the edge you can always stand up unassisted.’

I seemed to drop into these odd situations around the royals. One time I was at Buckingham Palace, working with Lord Snowdon and I ended up waving at the crowds outside. It was quite surreal. But then afterwards, I was walking down the corridor and a Corgi dog leapt out and started biting at my ankles. As I was gently pushing it off (I am a great animal lover) I heard a voice saying ‘Who are you?’

I looked up and there she was, Her Majesty, The Queen. I told her what had happened and she said,

ng that!’

is always doi e on at th , ry or w ’t on d h ‘O

‘Flower Power 2’ by Tom Murray 1968

‘Flower Power 2’ by Tom Murray 1968

I like the famous photograph of the guy sitting on the bench, known as

‘the nowhere man’.

He was just sat there, fast asleep, with John behind him, Paul next to him, and George and Ringo sat on the bench.

Click click, and off we went. He never knew.

I’ve always wondered if anyone ever went up to him afterwards and asked him if he had any idea who had been sat next to him for a few seconds, or that he had been immortalised in a photograph with The Beatles. Perhaps he was dreaming about them at the time?

‘Nowhere Man’ by Tom Murray 1968

I like the famous photograph of the guy sitting on the bench, known as

‘the nowhere man’.

He was just sat there, fast asleep, with John behind him, Paul next to him, and George and Ringo sat on the bench.

Click click, and off we went. He never knew.

I’ve always wondered if anyone ever went up to him afterwards and asked him if he had any idea who had been sat next to him for a few seconds, or that he had been immortalised in a photograph with The Beatles. Perhaps he was dreaming about them at the time?

‘Nowhere Man’ by Tom Murray 1968

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