In Honor Of The 50th Anniversary Of The Rolling Stones: I Was In A Closet With Mick Jagger

It was the sixties and I’m sure I was 12 years old. My friends and I were all caught up in the British invasion. My girlfriend Patty wrote me a twenty eight page Beatle letter that did nothing but ogle Paul. We were in Heaven.

My sisters and I got to go to a press conference on the Beatles first trip to America. My Father, being a well known restauranteur in Philadelphia, hitched us a ride with winners of a radio Beatle contest. We stood five feet from the adorable four. John and Paul were flirting with my two older sisters, Marjorie and Donna. Later we met Ringo outside of a room where “they“ all were. The DJ introduced us as the Battles girls. I remember
Ringo saying, “Don’t battle me I’m too little.”

We went back to a waiting room and in walked Ringo to hand me a three by five card with all the Beatles autographs. He had walked ten feet out of his way and been nice enough to get me those signatures. Life was good!

Months later the rebels of rock and roll came on the scene. Many Beatles fans hated the Rolling Stones, but we somehow loved them too. We thought Mick Jagger was then, “The Sexiest Man Alive.” We giggled for hours about the possibility that he stuffed his pants with a sock to make you-know-what look bigger. We spent hours howling at all of this, virgins that we were.

My Father decided to bring the Rolling Stones into town. He also brought in Hermans Hermits who at the time had a few hit records. They both were promised top billing. Hermans Hermits arrived early in the day. On their way in they saw HERMANS HERMITS in large letters`and the Rolling Stones written below in small letters. Once safely inside, my dad had the billboard changed to reflect what Mick and his pals wanted to see. What a coup!

For months dad told everyone he was bringing the “Rolling Rocks” to town. He said it to torture me.

Late on the day of the concert dad picked me up to go somewhere. We were to stop at his nightclub for something. I’ll never forget what I was wearing. It was this light pink dress with pouffy short sleeves. I looked like Alice in Wonderland or Shirley Temple. We walked in the RDA club and there were the Stones eating dinner. Each one stood up as they were introduced to me. They were perfect gentlemen, or feeling threatened by my Italian father.

We arrived at the hall and met my friends. There were at least one hundred girls back stage. Little Eddie Newborn was the head of Convention Hall. He was my father’s old friend. Eddie quietly came up to us and told us that the Stones road manager had announced that they would not perform until all the girls were cleared out of back stage. “Run up those stairs and turn to the right. The Rolling Stones are in that room. Hurry up before it’s too late.” There was Eddie helping the “girls” to their idols. What a sport!

We walked to the steps, then made our dash up two flights of stairs. We got to the landing and looked around. To the right was the door, behind it we heard music. To the left another door. Patty opened it, it was a large broom closet. All of a sudden we heard all this commotion downstairs. We had been found out and someone was about to chase us. Patty said, “Quick, lets get in here!” One, two, three, four, then shut the door! We were all in the broom closet. We could hear some screaming fans outside, the police after them in hot pursuit. There we were in the dark. No one knew. All quiet, soon, on the western front.

We stood facing each other in the dark, giggling how we had fooled everyone. After about ten minutes Bill Wyman came out to go to the mens room. Susan peeked out, “Tell Mick we’re in here.” He smiled.

Soon Brian Jones came out. We gave him the same message with the same invitation. No luck.

After another ten minutes the road manager came out and opened our door. “What are you American girls doing in this closet?” he said with indignation and in his thick English accent. “We’re waiting for Mick, but do you want to come in?” He smiled and shut the door. Now everyone knew there were four girls standing in the broom closet. No one seemed to care.

Five more minutes and our prize came out. Mick knocked on the door, came in, and shut the door behind him. Patty had confiscated a now hot six pack of beer and gave it to Mick. He said something about his “flat” in London. We were thrilled to hear any English expression. We all gave him a kiss on the cheek and then he left.

We waited until we heard the Stones leave the room. Some how not wanting to give up our stronghold. We finally came out of our hideaway to watch them perform.

Our story of Mick Jagger and the closet was certainly a nauseatingly innocent one. I wonder if he has another version of it?

©2012 Merry C. Battles