Fact #164362
When:
Short story:
The Beach Boys begin a Tour of North America with pop guru the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi at Singer Bowl, New York City, USA.
Full article:
"One of the greatest things he said," explained Beach Boy Mike Love, "was that you don't have to give up your Rolls-Royce ... to develop inner spiritual qualities."
'He' was the giggling guru of transcendental meditation, the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, who John Lennon later lampooned in song on The Beatles' White Album as Sexy Sadie. There was a certain irony then, in the fact that it was word of the Maharishi's impact on The Beatles that rendered The Beach Boys particularly receptive to his cannily pitched blend of mysticism and mumbo-jumbo, when they encountered him at a UNICEF benefit in Paris on 15 December 1967.
Mike Love, comforted by the notion that his hedonistic, materialistic lifestyle wouldn't conflict with his progress towards nirvana, was the most fervent convert, quickly knocking up the song Transcendental Meditation for Friends, the album the band was then working on. "Transcendental meditation can emancipate the man," he had them wailing with conviction, "and get you feeling grand."
Exactly how many grand was never specified in the lyric, but the Maharishi almost certainly knew, down to the last penny. While The Beatles (and Mike Love) stayed with him at his Himalayan retreat in February 1968, the Maharishi had opened negotiations with the Fab Four on a deal that would commit them to funnelling up to 25% of their total income to his personal Swiss bank account. When a Beatles' aide arrived in Rishikesh to hammer out details, he found the Maharishi's accountant a surprisingly shrewd negotiator, haggling tenaciously over the finer points of the profit structure.
Love too, was instrumental in getting the band to agree to what was billed as 'the Most Exciting Event of the Decade' - a 17 date tour of America featuring the Maharishi as their special guest, opening on May 3. The original plan was to play low-key shows on college campuses, combining a lecture from the Maharishi with a set of recent Beach Boys material. Almost inevitably, however, the band found itself booked into huge rock arenas like the Spectrum in Philadelphia and, on the fateful first night, The Singer Bowl in New York.
From the start, the Maharishi did not prove an accomodating support act. Evidently he knew his rider all too well, having demanded that his rockin' benefactors should stump up for elaborate floral displays to decorate the stage during his lectures. He also insisted on supplies of fresh fruit and other dietary necessities. After conceding meekly to all of their spiritual chum's earthly requirements, the band was in the midst of setting up their gear for the show when word arrived that the Maharishi, having heard reports of low ticket sales, was not prepared even to leave his hotel room. Road manager Richard Duryea reckons that "more police showed up than audience" at The Singer Bowl and, even at subsequent dates where Beach Boy fans arrived in significant numbers, "when the Maharishi came on, they all left."
"The Maraharishi would be giving his lectures," remembers bassist Bruce Johnston, "and being drowned out by fans screaming for The Beach Boys." Despite this inauspicious start, the media continued to report that bookings for later dates were 'sensational' until, by the middle of the month, the jig was clearly up. Although the band declared itself willing to continue the tour in the spirit of "love, friendship and peace" which had inspired it, the Maharishi decided that the time had come to honour a movie contract he'd previously welched on with Four Star Productions in Hollywood, and spirited himself off the tour.
The remaining dates were cancelled, with The Beach Boys shouldering losses approaching $500,000. "If anybody benefits from this tour," observed Al Jardine sardonically, "it'll be the florists." The way Duryea remembers it, however, the Maharishi got the last giggle. "He was laughing all the time. He got his money."
Within a couple of months, Bruce Johnston was able to wax philosophical over the fiasco. "I think everyone should do a tour like that and have the experience of losing three or four hundred thousand dollars - it's real funky."
Despite everything, Mike Love held fast to his belief in the Maharishi, although Brian Wilsonfound the Yogi increasingly hard to bear. In 1977, he grumbled "Meditation doesn't help me like the Maharishi said it would - it just doesn't do shit for me. I've given up on it."
Looking back in January of 2001, Al Jardine reckoned, "It was just a disaster. It was like 'Let's throw a party,' and nobody came. I guess the Maharishi thought that we were The Beatles and we'd bring all these people into the halls to see him. He was obviously using us as a magnet and it didn't work."
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'He' was the giggling guru of transcendental meditation, the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, who John Lennon later lampooned in song on The Beatles' White Album as Sexy Sadie. There was a certain irony then, in the fact that it was word of the Maharishi's impact on The Beatles that rendered The Beach Boys particularly receptive to his cannily pitched blend of mysticism and mumbo-jumbo, when they encountered him at a UNICEF benefit in Paris on 15 December 1967.
Mike Love, comforted by the notion that his hedonistic, materialistic lifestyle wouldn't conflict with his progress towards nirvana, was the most fervent convert, quickly knocking up the song Transcendental Meditation for Friends, the album the band was then working on. "Transcendental meditation can emancipate the man," he had them wailing with conviction, "and get you feeling grand."
Exactly how many grand was never specified in the lyric, but the Maharishi almost certainly knew, down to the last penny. While The Beatles (and Mike Love) stayed with him at his Himalayan retreat in February 1968, the Maharishi had opened negotiations with the Fab Four on a deal that would commit them to funnelling up to 25% of their total income to his personal Swiss bank account. When a Beatles' aide arrived in Rishikesh to hammer out details, he found the Maharishi's accountant a surprisingly shrewd negotiator, haggling tenaciously over the finer points of the profit structure.
Love too, was instrumental in getting the band to agree to what was billed as 'the Most Exciting Event of the Decade' - a 17 date tour of America featuring the Maharishi as their special guest, opening on May 3. The original plan was to play low-key shows on college campuses, combining a lecture from the Maharishi with a set of recent Beach Boys material. Almost inevitably, however, the band found itself booked into huge rock arenas like the Spectrum in Philadelphia and, on the fateful first night, The Singer Bowl in New York.
From the start, the Maharishi did not prove an accomodating support act. Evidently he knew his rider all too well, having demanded that his rockin' benefactors should stump up for elaborate floral displays to decorate the stage during his lectures. He also insisted on supplies of fresh fruit and other dietary necessities. After conceding meekly to all of their spiritual chum's earthly requirements, the band was in the midst of setting up their gear for the show when word arrived that the Maharishi, having heard reports of low ticket sales, was not prepared even to leave his hotel room. Road manager Richard Duryea reckons that "more police showed up than audience" at The Singer Bowl and, even at subsequent dates where Beach Boy fans arrived in significant numbers, "when the Maharishi came on, they all left."
"The Maraharishi would be giving his lectures," remembers bassist Bruce Johnston, "and being drowned out by fans screaming for The Beach Boys." Despite this inauspicious start, the media continued to report that bookings for later dates were 'sensational' until, by the middle of the month, the jig was clearly up. Although the band declared itself willing to continue the tour in the spirit of "love, friendship and peace" which had inspired it, the Maharishi decided that the time had come to honour a movie contract he'd previously welched on with Four Star Productions in Hollywood, and spirited himself off the tour.
The remaining dates were cancelled, with The Beach Boys shouldering losses approaching $500,000. "If anybody benefits from this tour," observed Al Jardine sardonically, "it'll be the florists." The way Duryea remembers it, however, the Maharishi got the last giggle. "He was laughing all the time. He got his money."
Within a couple of months, Bruce Johnston was able to wax philosophical over the fiasco. "I think everyone should do a tour like that and have the experience of losing three or four hundred thousand dollars - it's real funky."
Despite everything, Mike Love held fast to his belief in the Maharishi, although Brian Wilsonfound the Yogi increasingly hard to bear. In 1977, he grumbled "Meditation doesn't help me like the Maharishi said it would - it just doesn't do shit for me. I've given up on it."
Looking back in January of 2001, Al Jardine reckoned, "It was just a disaster. It was like 'Let's throw a party,' and nobody came. I guess the Maharishi thought that we were The Beatles and we'd bring all these people into the halls to see him. He was obviously using us as a magnet and it didn't work."