Brian Epstein is largely unknown to people under the age of 30. Yet in his time, as the manager of the Beatles, Epstein made musical history, taking them from obscurity in the Cavern to unprecedented success in the US, an impenetrable market for British acts at the time. Paul McCartney called him "the fifth Beatle", and when the boys received their MBEs in 1965, Paul and George remarked that MBE stood for "Mr Brian Epstein". As Epstein's surviving fans point out, in the 30 years since his death in 1967, Epstein has fallen from that lofty status to become the "Nowhere Man" of Beatles history.
The Brian Epstein Story, by Deborah Geller, based on interviews conducted for an Arena documentary, is not intended to replace Ray Coleman's impressive though hard-to-find biography of 1989 — a biography not merely authorised by Epstein's late mother, Queenie, but read to her by the author, in its entirety, before he could publish it. What the Geller book brings is testimony from friends, colleagues, employees and rivals (but only one of the surviving Beatles, Paul McCartney), some of it unreliable because of the 30 years that have passed, some of it contradictory, some of it shedding light on matters ignored or hushed up in the past.
Epstein himself, at 29, wrote an autobiography with Derek Taylor, which was reprinted last year. A Cellarful of Noise is surprisingly unhubristic, and shows all the charm and modesty, as well as the grand enthusiasms and flashes of bullish pride, that witnesses recall in the man. Surprisingly, for a book that could have been another brash pop promo, it also offers, between the lines, a startling portrait of an insecure, bullied misfit, whose failures at school, experiences of anti-Semitism, and parental pressure must all have contributed to the mercurial, pill-popping manic depressive who achieved so much, yet died young, with an abiding sense of loneliness. Likewise, throughout the testaments in Geller's book, a shifting portrait emerges of a man whom "people couldn't really get close to". A homosexual who died a few months before homosexuality was legalised, he lived in constant fear of beatings and blackmail, though some friends insist he was not unhappy to be gay. A lonely boy who had been unsuccessful as an adult, if people could never tell as an adult if people liked him for himself or his wealth, fame and connections; a depressive with mood swings and tyrannical tantrums, he was nonetheless (quite clearly) loved by those who knew him. A conservative and control-freak in his work, he loved risk taking, and had a passion for bullfighting, high-stake gambling and roughtrade. As to his death, no one seems to believe he committed suicide, although his overdose followed at least one previous attempt, and a series of depressions in the wake of various perceived rejections and the death of his father.
The book does not clear up the various rumours and mysteries of Epstein's life and death; how could they, so long after the events in question? It has often been rumoured (and as hotly denied) that Epstein had a gay fling with John Lennon in the early 1960s, as if this might explain Lennon's mixture of affection and cruel contempt for his devoted manager. Lonnie Trimble, Epstein's manservant, testifies that Brian and Lennon had been lovers, a suggestion that no one else is touching with a bargepole. The rumours that Epstein was murdered receive short shrift, except for some sinister details in a couple of the final interviews that are, tantalisingly, unexamined. Epstein was using Seconal and similar pills to sleep, and amphetamines to wake up again; he was also experimenting with grass, LSD and any other drug on the scene. At one point he was hospitalised in order to restore a genuine sleeping pattern. It is quite possible that, drunk and unhappy, he misjudged his last dose.
Epstein's successes and failures as a manager are scrutinised more explicitly. He always honoured a contract, rather than renegotiating on the back of success. Some say this was financially inept, but this was a new world, not just for Epstein and his signings, but for the industry, and one thing that is apparent, all these years later, is that the goodwill Epstein's probity generated did much to maintain the group's popularity. It was also the case that no one else had signed the group when Epstein championed them with zealous and messianic vigour, and so he was negotiating from a position of real weakness. (From a job managing a record department in one of his father's shops, Epstein, with his extraordinary faith in the Beatles, got them their first recording contract, after most major labels had shown no interest, with Decca notably saying "groups of four guitarists are on their way out".) His failure to secure adequate merchandising rights for the band led to a lengthy and draining court case that may have contributed to Epstein's final and perhaps fatal depression.
As a youth, Epstein had tried his hand at acting; he had also wanted to be a dress designer. (These "unmanly" pursuits did not impress his conservative and business-minded family.) His imaginative window-dressing in the record shop is still remembered fondly, as is his sense of theatricality, as many testify. Epstein was a manager with a keen sense of the importance of image, and in this respect ahead of his time. He was "a Diaghilev" according to George Martin, the producer whose talent and faith also secured their fame. Marianne Faithful likewise describes Epstein as a "Binkie Beaumont" character. She also suggested to him that he'd "created a Frankenstein" [sic]; and he shortly afterwards told a friend he was "a Svengali who had created a monster". For all these metaphors, myths and canonisations, one is still left, inescapably, with a moving story of a damaged boy who yearned for success and its trappings, and who, despite attaining it, felt lonely and left out until the end of his tragically short life.