Ognir is a character Ringo created for himself in his hour-long 1978 TV special, Ringo — a musical version of Mark Twain’s “The Prince and the Pauper.” In this twist, Ringo plays two roles: a famous rock drummer who’s bored with his glamorous, superficial lifestyle, and Ognir, a sad, bullied misfit. The identical strangers switch places for awhile, and each realizes that the lights aren’t always brighter on the other side of the concert hall. The story is narrated by Beatle George Harrison and features, in Hollywood parlance, a cavalcade of stars: Vincent Price, Art Carney, Angie Dickinson, and John Ritter, plus talk show host, Mike Douglas. Ringo drums and sings his way through the show, and even does a duet with Star Wars darling Carrie Fisher on “You’re Sixteen.”

Yes, the entire program was pure corn-pone and painful to watch at the time. Now, 37 years later, I find it quaint and amusing, particularly the opening press conference scene that features the sweet George Harrison answering a barrage of reporters’ questions.

But let’s not be too hard on Ringo. Like his former bandmates he was doing what he could to remain relevant in a post-Beatles rock world dominated by raucous stadium bands like Led Zeppelin and the take it easy strains of Southern California acts like The Eagles. In the 1970s, with a little help from his friends, Ringo released 7 solo LPs. His third album went platinum, his fourth went gold. He also churned out a dozen singles, his best and biggest being “It Don’t Come Easy” in 1971. All the while he was indulging in a variety of chemical substances as his 10-year marriage slowly crumbled.

It’s tough for a drummer to break big as a solo artist, especially one with a less than melodic voice. But Ringo had a fallback option: acting. This diminutive sad-faced boy with the deadpan Liverpudlian accent totally stole the show in both Beatles movies: A Hard Day’s Night (the title was his idea) and Help.

Ringo has appeared in more than a dozen non-Beatles feature films – from alcohol-fueled disasters like Harry Nilsson’s 1974 Son of Dracula, to surreal hippie flicks like Frank Zappa’s 200 Motels, in which he played a character named Larry the Dwarf.

His first major project was the trippy 1968 sex comedy Candy. He played Emmanuel, a Mexican gardner in love with a nymphet. Not a memorable film, but he had the distinction of appearing in a movie featuring Brando and Burton.

But it was his second film, 1969’s The Magic Christian, that drew the most attention and is today considered a cult classic. It’s a page from the Monty Python school of comedy: an eccentric billionaire, played by the equally eccentric Peter Sellers, seeks a son. He adopts a homeless orphan, played by Ringo, and together they romp around London pulling anarchist stunts and playing satirical practical jokes on pompous socialites. The film co-starred Roman Polanski, Raquel Welch, Christopher Lee, Richard Attenborough, and Yul Brynner, plus several members of the Python troupe.

Ringo’s next several projects bombed, but he bounced back in 1973 with That’ll Be The Day. It’s a drama about a disaffected young man named Jim (played by singer David Essex) who seeks an escape from his dreary life in early 1960s London – right at the start of the burgeoning rock scene. (The film’s subject matter is akin to The Who’s 1973 rock opera “Quadrophenia,” which became a movie in 1979.) Jim hooks up with a cocky schemer named Mike (played by Ringo), and ends up taking a dead-end job at a holiday camp — chasing girls and going nowhere. The film and its its accompanying soundtrack album were very popular in the U.K.

Many poorly conceived and badly produced film projects and shorts followed. Then, in 1984 his acting career took off again — this time via the small screen — when he became the narrator/storyteller of the very popular U.K. animated children’s series Thomas The Tank Engine. His presence was wildly received. He next appeared as Mr. Conductor, the six-inch-tall host of the show’s American spin-off, Shining Time Station, which ran from 1989 to 1993. During this entire period Ringo managed to show up for work, despite his progressively destructive alcoholism. He and his wife, one-time “Bond Girl” Barbara Bach, entered rehab together in 1989 and they’ve been dry ever since.

So, there you have it. Today Ringo is among the most beloved rock stars of all time, revered by fans and fellow rockers alike. Once considered the Beatle least likely to succeed, he’s managed to keep on keeping on. He’s still releasing albums and touring with his All-Starr Band. I’m thrilled to say that Ringo high-fived me in 1995 as I waved my arms in front of the stage at his outdoor All Starr concert in Pittsburgh. What an experience. I TOUCHED The Beatle I most loved as a child. So the next time you see me, shake my right hand, blog followers, and feel the magic.

Here’s the trailer of the wonderfully kooky “The Magic Christian.” The film features the songs “Something in the Air,” by Thunderclap Newman, and “Come And Get It,” written by Paul McCartney and performed by Badfinger.

And here’s part 1 of Ringo’s wonderfully tacky 1978 TV special. It’s worth a look, if only to see George Harrison as Ringo’s press attaché at the start of the movie.

© Dana Spiardi, July 7, 2013

When Richard “Ringo” Starkey left Rory Storm and the Hurricanes to replace bland pretty-boy Pete Best as the Beatles’ drummer in August 1962, the group not only found its rhythm, it found its scrappy, madcap soul. Sure, John Lennon was witty and droll, bordering on cocky, but Ringo was sweetly funny, with an unassuming, wistful air and a knack for physical comedy. He was the band’s neutralizer, its fab mascot, its cinematic scene-stealer, and its fashion plate. In 1964 Ringo was the most popular Beatle in America, and my personal favorite. When I first saw the band on the Sullivan show, Ringo captured my heart with his sad, dreamy eyes, curly-lipped smile, and shaggy, bopping head. No musician has ever looked as happy as spunky little Ringo, sitting throne-like above the others (all younger than he) behind his Ludwig Black Oyster drum kit the night the Beatles conquered America.

John, Paul and George bickered, but never with Ringo. His humility, sensitivity and sense of purpose made him immune to the creative competitiveness of the others. When he quit the band for two weeks during the tension-filled recording of the White Album, the boys quickly wooed him back.

“I got a telegram saying, ‘You’re the best rock-n-roll drummer in the world. Come on home, we love you,'” Ringo once told an interviewer. “And so I came back. We all needed that little shake-up. When I got back to the studio I found George had had it decked out with flowers – there were flowers everywhere. I felt good about myself again, we’d got through that little crisis and it was great.”

As a Beatle, Ringo never aspired to be singer, spokesman or songwriter. His job was providing the backbeat for some of the most complex songs in modern music, and he did it better than anybody. Yes, I say better, because he did more with less and he never showed off. “Ringo is right down the center, never overplays,” said Sir Paul. He required no mega drum kits like those of Keith Moon, no special sticks like those of John Bonham, and no drum solos (the eight measure burst during “The End” was his one brief solo moment). His tempo and timing were perfect. Listen closely to his work on “Rain,” “Ticket to Ride,” “Here Comes the Sun,”  “Come Together,” and “Tomorrow Never Knows” as a reminder of just how great he really was.

“Ringo’s got the best backbeat I’ve ever heard and he can play great 24-hours a day,” George once said. There isn’t a rock drummer from the past 50 years who hasn’t cited Mr. Starr as a beat-making godfather. Yet, Ringo modestly describes himself as “your basic offbeat drummer with funny fills.”

Ringo’s relationship with John was especially close. John wrote “With a Little Help From My Friends” specially for the drummer, in a key that perfectly suited his melancholy voice. John took note of Ringo’s many malapropisms, using two of them for song titles: “A Hard Day’s Night” and “Tomorrow Never Knows.” Beatles’ record producer George Martin once said, “Ringo’s opinion was always important to John, just because he knew that with him there’d never be any bullshit. He’d often turn to Ringo and ask him what he thought, and if Ringo said, ‘That’s crap, John,’ he’d do something else.”

No one was a bigger Beatles fan than Ringo himself. He remained friendly with his mates long after their breakup, and played on many solo Beatles’ albums. A soft touch, he still still chokes up during interviews when discussing the sad deaths of John and George.

On July 7, 2014, the man known simply as Ritchie to his friends celebrates his 74th birthday. The poor, sickly boy from the Liverpool slums has lived a life beyond his wildest dreams. He’s clean and sober, a father of three, a grandfather of seven, married to a fabulous woman (Barbara Bach) and still making records. I’ve seen his All-Starr Band three times and once had the privilege of being “high-fived” by the boy I flipped over 50 years ago.  He’s the rock musician most beloved by his peers.

This quote from John perfectly sums up Ringo and his contribution to that little band from Liverpool: “Ringo is Ringo, that’s all there is to it. And he’s every bloody bit as warm, unassuming, funny and kind as he seems. He was, quite simply, the heart of the Beatles.”

Here’s a video of “Ringo’s Adventure” from the Beatles’ first film, “A Hard Days’ Night.” It’s my favorite scene!

© Dana Spiardi, July 7, 2014

When the Fab Four invaded America 50 years ago, Ringo Starr quickly became the favorite of the band’s American fans, including me. From his beat-happy debut on the Ed Sullivan show, to his hilarious hip-swiveling Elvis imitation during the band’s first press conference, to his scene-stealing role in “A Hard Days Night,” Ringo charmed the Yanks like no other.

In a March 1964 article in the Saturday Evening Post, veteran music journalist Al Aronowitz said of Ringo: “The most popular of the Beatles in America, he evokes paroxysms of teen-age shrieks everywhere by a mere turn of his head, a motion which sends his brown spaniel hair flying. When he flips his wig, the kids flip theirs. ‘Riiinngo! Riinngo!’ the kids call out.”

Such was his appeal that fans launched a “Ringo for President” campaign in the midst of the Johnson/Goldwater race. A well-organized contingent – most of whose members were below the voting age of 21 – banded together to enter the drummer as a third-party write-in candidate for Commander in Chief. They produced buttons, t-shirts and signs; organized rallies; and even inspired the recording of a novelty song – “We Want Ringo for President” – that was released by both Australian performer Rolf Harris and a studio group called the Young World Singers.

When asked his reaction to this fan-fueled campaign, Ringo said, “Well, it’s rather…it’s marvelous!”, yet admitted that he was not “politically minded.”

But his reluctance didn’t stop a large group of fans from carrying Ringo signs as they swarmed the perimeters of the GOP National Convention at San Francisco’s Cow Palace in July 1964, hoping to drum up votes and draw attention away from Senator Barry Goldwater. The “Vote for Ringo” movement generated enough hoopla that it actually earned a mention in Theodore H. White’s best-selling book, The Making of the President, 1964.

Yes, in the parlance of the times, the diminutive drummer was gear that year. “I love Ringo” lapel pins outsold all other Beatle merchandise. British music journalist Penny Valentine wrote a novelty tune called “I Want to Kiss Ringo Goodbye.” No other Beatle had the distinction of being memorialized on vinyl in those days. One of the highlights of every Beatles concert was the “Ringo number.” The minute John placed the microphone in front of his drums, the audience immediately erupted with hysteria. Critics deemed Ringo the star of the Beatles’ 1964 debut film “A Hard Days Night,” raving over his natural, “lovable schnook” performance in the stylish, madcap comedy.

Ringo was at times overwhelmed. He once said, “In the States I know I went over well. It knocked me out to see and hear the kids waving for me. I’d made it as a personality.” But he’d go on to prove that he was much more than a mere personality. He was the rock world’s most versatile drummer, providing rhythm for some of the most complex songs in modern music. “Ringo’s got the best backbeat I’ve ever heard and he can play great 24-hours a day,” George Harrison once said. There isn’t a rock drummer from the past 50 years who hasn’t cited Mr. Starr as a beat-making godfather. Yet, Ringo modestly describes himself as “your basic offbeat drummer with funny fills.”

Like most people who were lucky enough to experience full-frontal Beatlemania during that incredible zeitgeist, I’ll always remember where I was and how I felt the first time I saw the band on the Sullivan show. I flipped for all four Fabs that night, but it was the smiling drummer who captured my heart with his sad blue eyes, pouty lips, and shaggy, bopping head. No musician in the history of rock-n-roll ever looked as happy as spunky little Ringo, sitting throne-like above his bandmates (all younger than he), keeping the beat on his Ludwig Black Oyster drum kit the night the Beatles changed the course of music history.

I’ve been in love with “this boy” all my life. I’ve sat on the stoop of his childhood home in Liverpool’s poor Dingle neighborhood. I proudly display the Ringo doll my grandmother bought me soon after I fell for him. I’ve had the pleasure of seeing him four times with his All-Starr Band. He even high-fived me once, as I reached up to him from the foot of the stage.

Now here I am, joining millions of others, getting ready to watch Ringo reunite with Paul tonight for an anniversary gala marking the night they “auditioned” for America with their long-gone bandmates John and George. World renowned musicians will pay tribute to the group that inspired them. Every media outlet in the world will cover the event. Facebook and Twitter will be abuzz with posts. Rock writers will churn out a few more books on the musical and cultural significance of the phenomenon known as the Beatles. And while all this fanfare is going on, I somehow get the feeling that deep down, Richard “Ringo” Starkey, the sickly boy from the Liverpool slums, still can’t quite believe what happened to him.

I love this montage of Ringo’s movie scenes, beautifully assembled by one of his fans:

Here’s Rolf Harris’s version of “We Want Ringo for President”:

© Dana Spiardi, Feb 9, 2014