Not Fade Away - Ringo Starr Fan Fiction - Beatles Fan Fiction

Prologue - The Frightened City

Ringo Starr was taking advantage of the Hurricanes' weekly day off from Butlins. He sped along the A55, a stretch of motorway from Pwllheli to Liverpool in his Ford Zodiac.

His mum Elsie made plans to throw a party for her Ritchie in their small terraced two-up two-down on Admiral Grove. He'd turned 21 yesterday. For a young man, that doctors didn't believe would live to see his seventh birthday that was a milestone worthy of celebrating.

He was a sickly lad, spending time in and out of hospitals. During his teenage years, he'd also battled a bout of pleurisy and tuberculosis on his fourteenth birthday. He was small in stature, but his ailments combined with his rough upbringing toughened Richard Starkey.

The drive on his own, gave way to him thinking about where he was headed. Drumming for the Hurricanes provided him with a steady source of income. It was an easy gig too. His second season with the group at the holiday camp was fantastic. He only had to play for an hour in the afternoon and for three hours at night.

A constant stream of birds in his chalet that changed weekly with the camper's changeover. Drinking a seemingly endless supply of booze from the bar during his downtime. Any other young man would've been quite content. His bandmates were enjoying the ride.

Yet, Ringo had grown increasingly disappointed that they hadn't been discovered. For him, they weren't moving forward and had stalled creatively and professionally somewhere along the way. He was shooting for the big time. While Rory, Johnny, Lu, and Ty were satisfied with playing the holiday season at Butlins and working the Merseybeat dancehall circuit. He'd outgrown the band and couldn't decide whether or not he wanted to continue with them.

Ringo didn't want to feel down. Not today. He reached out, turning up the radio. The Shadows twangy guitar playing filled his car. 

(————) 

Peddling along the pavement on Rice Street toward Pilgrim, a cracking tune by The Shadows, 'The Frightened City' could be heard on Joan Cohen's handheld transistor radio, coming from the wicker basket attached to the front of her bicycle. She was running late for work at Cohen Tailors, her parents shop on Newington. She'd lost track of time in Ye Cracke, a pub frequented by students from the nearby Liverpool College Of Art.

Courses were out for the summer, but students continued to stop in. Joan was one of them spending her time sketching her classmates and other patrons in the pub from a distance, never entirely feeling that she belonged. Even within this enclave of artistically minded peers. She was a young woman of mixed race, given up for adoption as an infant. She'd spent the first few years of her life in a children's home before she was adopted by the Cohen's an older childless Jewish couple.

It didn't matter that Liverpool was a port city, all sorts of people coming and going through the docks. Bigotry still existed. She didn't feel that she could blend into a crowd. Her skin just a shade darker than everyone else's, hair straight but not the same texture as the other girls. Adding to her 'otherness' as she'd taken to referring to what made her different was being Jewish.

The Joan Cohens' of the world weren't supposed to be half black and white. She found herself in situations, even within her religious community that people simply didn't know what to make of her. Liverpudlians weren't subtle either. She wasn't at times, but it never felt good to have that cutting humor turned on her.  

(————) 

Elsie watched her son help himself to another serving of the fried Spam and chips she'd prepared. "Aren't they feeding you at that holiday camp?"

Washing down his mouthful of food, Ringo drained the last sips of tea from his cup. "We feed ourselves." He answered, setting the empty cup onto the kitchen table.