#paul -> john -> george-> ritchie

[certainlyathrill]

good grief !

(part 2)

[strazcenter]

The Day the Music Didn’t Die

On Feb. 3, 1959, a single-engine Beechcraft Bonanza flying in low visibility crashed north of Clear Lake, Iowa. All four aboard were killed: pilot Roger Peterson and rock & rollers Buddy Holly, 22; The Big Bopper (J.P. Richardson Jr.), 28; and Ritchie Valens (Richard Valenzuela), 17. The three were stars of the Winter Dance Party Tour of the Midwest. Feb. 3 is called The Day the Music Died, the…

[mad-dogg]

need this goofy man in unimaginable ways

Gnawing on him like a chew toy

[tavolgisvist]

When George complaints about Paul who tells him what to play:

YORKE: When you’re working on a new Beatles album, how many songs would you personally come up with, and then how many would you get to use in the end? JOHN: Probably at least seven or eight each and there’s only fourteen tracks on an album, so you can imagine what it’s like. So you have to choose the ones you like best or the ones that are easiest to get across to the others. That’s the trouble.

(John Lennon, 1969, interview with Ritchie Yorke)

That was just saying: ‘This is my song, we’ll do it this way. That’s your song, you do it that way.’ It’s pretty hard trying to fit three guys’ music onto one album – that’s why we did a double.

(John Lennon, 1969, Anthology)

The other example that really pissed George off was when we were making ‘Hey Jude’. To me it had to have a sparse opening and it was going to build. So I started off ‘Hey Jude’ (sings) and George went ‘durnurnawnaww’ (makes guitar noise), and then ‘Don’t make it bad’, and he’d go ‘Derdlederlederdle’ and he was answering every line through the whole song and I just said, ‘No, man, I really don’t want that, it’s my song.’ The rule was whoever’s song it was to say how we did the arrangement for them.

(Paul McCartney, 1986, interview with Chris Salewicz for Q Magazine)

…But Paul and John and myself have got just so many songs, I think this is a good way, you know, if we do our own albums. That way we don't have to compromise. I mean, we lose whatever we get from each other -- we sacrifice that in order to do a total sort of thing, you know. Because in a way, Paul wants to do his songs his way. He doesn't want to do his songs my way. And I don't wanna do my songs their way, really. And uhh, I'm sure that after we've all completed an album or even two albums each, then that novelty will have worn off."

(George Harrison, May 1st 1970, interview with Howard Smith at WABC-FM radio)

When we go and do his song he’s in charge. I mean, I can give him everything I’ve got, but he’s written the song and he has a programme for it. If I do something that changes it and he likes it, then we’ll do that. But he is Mr McCartney when we do his song. And I’m Mr Ringo when we do mine. We’re just musician buddies. In the Beatles and in all sorts of studio creations, it’s like, if I write the song, it goes like this. And it’s always been the writer’s direction. John would direct his, Paul directed his, George directed his, and I directed ‘Octopus’s Garden’ and ‘Don’t Pass Me By’.

(Ringo Starr, summer 1997, interview for Club Sandwich)

+ this

[thecoleopterawithana]

Lennon may not be at his most dynamic in Get Back but he’s still compelling, partly because he’s not the character we expected to meet. At least, he’s not who I expected. Having ingested many books about the Beatles I thought he was going to be fiery, caustic, domineering, and - in this period - bitterly scornful of McCartney. Yet the Lennon we see here is for the most part a rather gentle presence who acts as a calming mediator between Paul and George. He grins at Paul, laughs heartily at his jokes, listens patiently to him. There is something quite childlike about John, particularly when his face opens up into a smile as the band hits a groove, or when he’s sitting patiently on the floor with a guitar and Yoko, waiting for another take. When Ringo starts playing Octopus’s Garden with George, John says “What am I doing, Ritchie?” and gets on the drums. There is bravado, of course - as when, following George’s departure, he immediately suggests they get Clapton in and split George’s guitars. But there is tenderness, too: after George leaves, it is John who brings the three remaining Beatles together into a hug.

We are used to thinking of Lennon as the visionary and Paul as the pragmatist. Yet here it’s Paul who throws up wildly impractical ideas - a news show that ends in an announcement of The Beatles’ split, a TV spectacular, an album full of songs they haven’t written yet, by next week - and John who suggests, mildly and sympathetically, that they consider what’s actually possible.

— Ian Leslie, "The Banality of Genius: Notes on Peter Jackson's Get Back" (January 26, 2022).

[I was curious to read more of Ian Leslie's approach to the Beatles in general and Lennon-McCartney in particular, since he's currently writing a book about John and Paul's relationship: “John and Paul: A Love Story in Songs". He's also the author of that New York Times opinion piece that came out today.]

[bong0ringo]

inspired by @xivclaymoore cowboy AU

english it's not my first language, so yes, this can be really bad and REALLY WRONG, but I think it's better than letting this idea just burning in my head <3

Beneath the hat, sweat had gathered at Richard's hairline, leaving the lad's greasy hair plastered to his forehead. The leather pants were a constant annoyance against his skin, chafing and itching with every movement of Tiger, who, from the neighing below Ritchie, was more tired than any of the men.

Coming from further ahead, John and Paul's voices were muffled to Ringo's ears, just words without context of incohesive curses in the glimpse of another argument, sometimes George's voice being heard but always ignored by the two older men. Each day away from home seemed more like a prelude to the end of the fragile dynamic of the four, Ringo was tired of pretending otherwise.

He casts a sideways glance at George — the lad, still so young, seems exhausted. His cheeks are deeper than when they left Liverpool, features more defined by either age or scarce food. Unfair that's what it was, a sweet boy like George wasted the last years of his youth on a horse and with a group of friends falling apart.

Richard's heart tightens to the perspective of what could have been; They were good at making music, the best, even if they were a bit pretentious about saying it. They should have remained like that, George strumming his banjo now and then in a little-known bar, making music in exchange for drinks with John's tuneful voice ringing in the air.

When George looks at him, there's no smile. It's been a while since Ringo has seen his best friend's refined teeth, or even the corners of his lips pulled up in an attempt at humor. It's just... tiredness. Pure, cruel tiredness.

For a moment, Ringo thinks that maybe he lost his best friend forever.

[gardenwalrus]

Freda Kelly on the early days of working as secretary for The Beatles, within documentary Good Ol' Freda: The Beatles' Secretary (2013)

KELLY: In the beginning, the lads were in the office nearly every single day, you know, they just popped in and out. They would sit by my desk for a chat or while they were waiting to go into Eppy's office, so I got to know them more. I mean, I was 17, so naturally I did have crushes on them. The way I describe it, and this is the truth, I mean, if Paul looked nice or sang a song for me or something, I was in love with Paul that day, I fancied him that day. But then the following day, if Ritchie asked me how my dogs were, because he knew I had Yorkshire terriers, he’d say, "Oh, how are the dogs?" and I’d think, "I fancy Ritchie." Then I’d think, if George offered me a lift home from work, well, I’d be in love with George that day, and I’d think, "Yeah, yeah, I definitely fancy George." But then if john came in and started talking about various things, I’d think, "Oh, no, you know, I like his nose, l like the Roman nose." But it would only be for a day or two. INTERVIEWER: Did you go out with any of them? KELLY: [PAUSE] No. INTERVIEWER: [PAUSE, THEN LAUGHTER] Okay. KELLY: Pass! INTERVIEWER: No stories there? KELLY: Oh, there is stories, but I don't want anybody's hair falling out. Or turning curly! That's personal!

[waveofahand]

Chapter 13: Two Days to Amerikay

In Chapter 13 of "Here, There and Everywhere" we are inside John's head a little bit, and he is scared. He's worried about the trouble in America and wondering why every leg of their summer tour has been complicated and has seemed even a little threatening. He knows Ritchie and George are not happy about his "bigger than Jesus" comments, even though they know it's not what he ever meant. Only Paul has his back -- John believes that. Only Paul, who is so dependably stubborn -- is keeping him from falling to pieces and begging forgiveness. But is Paul right? John is scared. His gut is telling him there is danger ahead. Maybe, for once, just this once, Paul's stubbornness is the problem.... You can read it here, at A03!

[i-am-the-oyster]

What is some Beatles lore that shook you to the core when you first heard about it ?

When I got this ask I literally went "ooooh" out loud. Great question nonny!

The first thing that came to mind was the Paris trip. It's just so intimate and soft. What did their friends think? What did John say to Cyn? Did Paul show John his doodles? Did John smile shyly, or punch Paul's upper arm and call him a girl?

It's such a staple of the fandom that I think we forget how wild it is.

---

Next thought: George and Mo. She says it was a spiritual connection, George told Pattie he wanted/deserved a harem, John (possibly) called it "ritual incest". It's not the thing the broke Mo and Ritchie up, nor did it come between George and Ritchie.

---

Finally for this round: Carl Perkins, and Paul's connection to "the spirit world". Carl Perkins was an idol of theirs, so much that George used 'Carl' as part of his stage name on the pre-Beatles Scottish tour. So it's kind of mad that Paul ended up inviting him to Montserrat (where the recording of Tug of War was a sort of Irish-wake for John). Was Paul hoping Carl's presence might entice George Harrison to come? Anyway, I can't tell this story as well as Carl can:

[beatleskinkmeme]

I read somewhere that John found out that he was dyslexic later on in life. So I thought it would be cute to read a fic where no one can understand whenever John writes something. Except Paul. That Paul has some freaky sixth sense when it comes to John and can easily translate whatever John is trying to convey. Like if John wrote a quick note for the band, Ritchie and George would be so confused by it but Paul would understand it right away.

.

[makemeactup]

Ringo Starr x OC - Hello

Summary: The lads have a bash with Beth, their childhood friend and fellow musician. After Ringo and her are left alone, things pick back up as it always seems to do when substances are involved.

Triggers: alcohol & drug mentions, sex, porn with VERY little plot.

A/N: to prove I'm alive and writing, just slow, here's an oc x Ringo thing I did a while ago! Imma not say more bc I WILL ramble about my oc

---

It was a get together, a house party only for the five of them. Getting drunk or high, or both, wasn't expected, but it happened. How could they say no? Good vibes, good company, and good substances — it was destined.

George was the first to retire, smashed off his head and high as a kite. He said he felt a little nauseous, and excused himself to the guest bedroom. Next was Paul, also drunk and high, but mainly just tired and mellow. He was falling asleep on the couch, and was sent to share the room with George. Lastly was John, far higher than anyone, he'd consumed a vast amount of vodka and beer and coke, and he'd stumbled his way towards the bathroom, not to be seen for the rest of the evening.

That left a drunk, high, and bashful Ringo, and a drunk, high, and joyful Beth. Sat beside each other on the couch, knees touching, laughter flowing freely and, perhaps, a bit obnoxiously outside of their bubble. They were talking about past times, future times, jokes and memories. Everything and nothing.

His arm was behind her along the couch, bent at the elbow to prop his head up; his torso was facing her, free hand resting on his thigh, fingers tantalisingly close to her leg, tapping an absentminded beat. She was facing him, leg hiked up to lay on the couch beside his hip, hands in her lap and other leg swinging as they spoke.

Everytime Ringo would make her laugh, she'd lean back a little bit, or her head would lightly hit his arm, or she'd place her hand on his knee or over his own hand. Each time, his drunken heart swelled, his cheeks grew a bit rosier, and he felt like a teenager again.

His eyes were entrancing, a gorgeous blue that Beth loved to get lost in. His smile was handsome, especially when it crinkled his eyes and he flashed teeth. He was a funny man, so full of love and joy, and he was warmth personified. He was cute, she'd happily admit. And a longing ached in her chest.

Like always, both of them eventually grew silent. It was just the hum of a record and the low volume of the TV keeping the room alive as the pair held their eye contact. It was intense, intimate. As if nothing else existed but them. A shared adoration, a shared love for one another.

"Hello, Richard," Beth spoke after another palpable few seconds, leaning up a little towards him. Her voice was lacking its previous brashness, now something more genuine and quiet.

"Hello, Bethany," Ringo replied, tone low and just for her. He leaned in a little bit too, noting the way that her cheeks flushed with his movement.

"Hello, Ritchie," She leaned up a little more.

"Hello, Bethie," He leaned down some more.

Their noses were practically touching, eyes half lidded with their sudden close proximity. Their breaths were mingling, a warm touch of anticipation between them.

"Hi, Ringo," Beth leaned in for the last time, lips grazing his.

"Hi, Beth," And their lips met.

It was soft at first, slow and almost hesitant. As if any further action would make the moment null and void; his free hand found the warmth of her thigh, exploring the fabric of her jeans and stopping shy just at her hip, just to repeat the process in reverse. He hummed as her hand found the side of his neck, fingers carding through his hair and playing with the strands.

Fuelled by alcohol, and perhaps a touch of lust, Ringo's grip on her thigh tightened as he intensified the kiss. He wanted to smother her, show her what he'd been waiting to do, how good he could make her feel. Maybe he could make it a point, and maybe she'd remember this unlike last time — hopefully he would, too. But right now, he was feeling bold.

Ringo's free hand met the base of her neck, the abrupt coldness of his rings eliciting a shiver from Beth. His fingers trailed up, carding through her hair and halting at the crown of her head; he grabbed a gentle fistful, a messy thing that had her groaning into his mouth.

Beth shuffled towards him, a hint for him to help. In one swift move, and with a little adjusting, she was straddling his lap. Their kiss was unbroken, growing more heated and desperate by the second. Both of her hands found his hair, and a single hand of his came to squeeze her ass hard.

It was no secret, in their new position, of his arousal. She could feel it straining beneath her, making her ache painfully for him as he was for her. She wanted him. She needed him. The way her hips ground against him said that perfectly. And yet there was worry in her mind.

"Ringo," Beth breathed, pulling back from the kiss with a little push back from his hair-curled hold. Her eyes met his, "We shouldn't do this."

He considered this for a moment, his usually bright blues tinted with something dark. Like an ocean during a storm. He searched her gaze, looking for any sign this should end. Finally, his lips parted, grip in her hair tightening a little. "I want you."

Needing no further reason to continue, she crashed her lips back into his. It was feverish, desperate, no longer holding any signs of hesitation or uncertainty. They needed each other, and each other they would have.

"Take 'em off, darlin'," Ringo hummed after a few more seconds of grinding and soft whines and holding himself back. He tugged at her jeans, "Need t' be in you."

Not having to be told twice, Beth shuffled away, trailing the kiss as far as she could. She stood, shaking hands making quick work of her buttons and zipper. Wiggling her hips to get them off, she cast a glance as he undid his belt and worked on freeing himself.

After kicking her trousers and underwear aside, and letting Ringo do the same, she took a step closer before he stopped her with an outstretched hand, "Undo your top. Please."

A lopsided grin found Beth's face at his polite yet demanding request, unbuttoning her shirt to allow it to drape at her sides. He was stroking himself, watching. But, far too drunk to be self conscious, she approached, flinging herself back into his lap and crushing her lips into his.

Settling back atop him, with some help admittedly, Ringo lined himself up as best he could whilst being devoured by their kiss. He drew back, both hands at her hips, and peered up at her with so much love and desire that she thought she'd melt.

"You ready?" He asked softly, barely a whisper. She simply nodded.

Following his lead, she slowly sunk onto his length, a collective groan filling the room. Her skin erupted into goosebumps at the sensation of being full, brows slanted as she drew in a shaky breath. For a long moment, they basked in each other's intimacy, her head finding the crook of his neck and breath erupting goosebumps in its wake.

He bucked his hips, prompting a surprised gasp; when she sat up, she began rocking atop him, the sensation lulling his head to fall back onto the couch. With lidded eyes he watched her, a hand sliding up to slip behind the open button up and under her bra.

Fingers found her nipple, toying with it. She moaned softly in response, hurried her pace. He gave a smirk, "'s that good?"

"Yes... God... please, Ringo..." Was all Beth could get out, voice a whine and damn near fucked out already.

If it was another night, maybe not when they're trying to be conscious of volume, he'd have fun with that. But for now, he nodded, muttering something breathy about how he knew. All the while, his other hand crept up to toy with her other nipple.

Every now and then, his hips bucked involuntarily, shoving himself deeper inside. And each time, she gave a delightful little gasp and moan combination, clenching around him and throwing her head back. And each time she did that, Ringo swore he could cum right there and then.

She was fucking herself on him, practically drooling. So ready to give herself as he was to her, and Ringo doubted there was ever a better feeling than this.

He began raising his hips to meet her in a steady rhythm, not quite helping the moans starting to occasionally filter through his lips. Without much thinking, his right hand left her breast and trailed up, exploring her deliciously smooth skin and grazing her throat.

The moment his fingers touched the sensitive area, she gasped and her whole body seemed to shake. She whined.

"Oh?" Ringo brought his hand back slowly, fingers curling softly around the expanse of her petite neck. She leaned into his hand a little, clenched around him, moaned something pathetic. "Oh. D'you like that?"

"Y-Yes, Richard, I do. Holy shit," Beth sounded breathless, as if saying anything took a lot of effort and energy. And for her it did, senses overwhelmed with the situation and his touches and how good he felt inside of her all at once.

When his real name left her mouth, he shakily inhaled, hips bucking into her and a hand at her hip pulling her down. Fully inside of her, his eyes closed, savouring how well she took him and how amazing she was. They stayed like that for a long moment, their heavy breaths mingling and appetite for each other not yet satiated. Perhaps it never would be.

Their eyes met now, pupils blown and cheeks flushed. Her nails dug into his clothed shoulder, lips subtly moving as if she wanted to speak. For a second, Ringo considered speaking, too. But like his partner, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"I need you," She whispered, attempting to gain some sort of friction, of motion, from the man beneath her.

He hummed after allowing himself another moment to commit this to hazy memory, smile threatening to grow into the dorky grin she'd come to adore. Wordlessly, he wrapped an arm around her waist and held her close, shifting so that she lay in the couch beneath him. He kept himself inside of her, his breath heaving as she clenched around him impatiently.

Without prior warning, he began thrusting into her; his pace was hard and consistent, not slow but nowhere near as fast as he could go. A ringed hand found her throat again, daring to squeeze just a little bit. Her back arched into him as she let out a borderline pornographic moan.

Her hands clawed for any part of him, coming to rest in his shoulder and in his hair. She pulled him down, desperation thick in her kiss and the whines and moans that were softly escaping her, now filtering so perfectly into his ears. His skin erupted into goosebumps, a groan leaving his throat as she tugged at his hair.

"Please, please — fuck me, please."

Just when Ringo thought that Beth couldn't get more attractive or sexy or otherworldly, she had to beg and prove him wrong. His lips found their place at the shell of her ear, leaving sloppy kisses as he tried to catch his breath. "I've got you," He whispered.

As requested, he picked up his pace, leaning up to observe her expressions and the product of his handiwork. Through a heaved breath and exertion, he smirked something wild, "You're so fucking gorgeous. I've been thinkin' 'bout this."

"You feel so good," She managed with a smile, his gorgeous eyes the only thing she could feasibly make out through the physical blur of alcohol and the mental fog of him and how he dominated her senses.

Using it as fuel, Ringo reached a hand down and began circling her bundle of nerves, noting the way her legs shook, she got louder, and his name began slipping into her extacy. He was finding it harder to keep himself quiet, his own moans and groans now evident in the room, dancing with hers in a perfect vocalisation of their affections.

"I-I-I'm— so close," Beth whimpered, eyes clamped shut as she chased her high.

"Look at me when you cum," Ringo urged, his own desperation and impending release racking his voice with an unsteadiness. "I wanna see you."

Willing her eyes open, Beth nodded, her hand leaving his hair to grasp his wrist at her throat, pulling it down onto her. Taking the hint, and losing himself in his own struggle to not cum, he squeezed far harder than she'd expected him to. And that was what pushed her off of the precipice.

With a loud moan of his name that ran into an incoherent string of words, Beth came, hips bucking and body shaking. Tears pricked her eyes as she pathetically tried to pull him down to kiss. And he allowed her, lips meeting hers as he continued pounding into her, urgently chasing his own orgasm and relishing in how perfect she was.

After a few more thrusts, he pulled out, cumming onto her stomach whilst moaning into her mouth. His whole body racked with a violent shiver as his head fell into the crook of her neck. He left tired, sloppy kisses along her neck, latching onto a spot to nibble and suck just to leave proof he had been there.

Once satisfied, Ringo stood and slipped his underwear on. He picked hers up as he found a pack of tissues, doing his intoxicated best to wipe her stomach clean before allowing her to slip her panties on. Practically collapsing onto the opposite end of the couch, he ushered her over to lay between his legs, her head on his chest as he played with her hair.

"I love you, Ringo," Beth spoke, voice barely audible and cracking with overwhelming drowsiness and the small cocktail of drugs in her system.

"I love you too, Beth," He replied at the same volume, smile almost comically wide and lazy, his cheeks rosy. He wrapped an arm around her, staring up at the ceiling as it slowly rippled and threatened to spin.

Ringo's eyes fluttered closed after a few minutes, a satisfaction deep rooted in his soul. And yet he feared for when they woke up and forgot about the whole thing.

[brookstonalmanac]

Birthdays 4.14

Beer Birthdays

George Schmitt (1869)

Aran Leon (1983)

Five Favorite Birthdays

Gerry Anderson; animator, supermarionation (1929)

Ritchie Blackmore; rock guitarist (1945)

Robert Doisneau; photographer (1912)

Shorty Rogers; jazz trumpeter (1924)

Pete Rose; Cincinnati Reds OF, 1B, 2B, 3B (1941)

Famous Birthdays

Gene Ammons; jazz saxophonist (1925)

Abigail Breslin; actor (1996)

Adrian Brody; actor (1973)

James Branch Cabell: writer (1879)

Robert Carlyle; actor (1961)

Julie Christie; actor (1941)

Daniel Clowes; comic book artist, writer (1961)

Péter Esterházy; Hungarian writer (1950)

Sarah Michelle Gellar; actor (1977)

John Gielgud; actor (1904)

Anthony Michael Hall; actor (1968)

Richard Jeni; comedian (1957)

David Justice; Atlanta Braves RF (1966)

Loretta Lynn; country singer (1935)

Greg Maddux; Atlanta Braves P (1966)

Ryan O'Neal; actor (1941)

Thomas Schelling; economist (1921)

Frank Serpico; NYC policeman (1936)

Rod Steiger; actor (1925)

John Paul Stevens; U.S. Supreme Court justice (1920)

Anne Sullivan; educator (1866)

Arnold Toynbee; English historian (1889)

[the-invisible-queer]

per that story you posted earlier, was Ringo commonly known as a cock to fans back in the day? how about the rest of them? I mean we all known Lennon was The Worst tm, but was he that way to fans?

Bestie I need context when you guys pull out random posts to discuss because most of what posts on my blog I queue roughly a month in advance

Is this about Ritchie telling the kid to fuck off?

My opinion is that story might be fake or hyperbolic

I don't think any of them were ever rude to fans unless in specific circumstances but I haven't heard any other story like that

My beef with John isn't for how he treated fans because I think he was very kind to fans

My beef with John is how he treated the people in his life who were closest to him

Plus he was an abusive piece of shit 🤷🏽‍♂️

But most of the fan interactions I've read or heard have been very pleasant experience

My grandma met George in '64 when the first came to the states and he held her hand to maybe shake it but she was so shooketh and he asked her if she was okay

Paul seems to be very appreciative to the fans to this day so I imagine he's also kind to them

[ulkaralakbarova]

In 1863, Mississippi farmer Newt Knight serves as a medic for the Confederate Army. Opposed to slavery, Knight would rather help the wounded than fight the Union. After his nephew dies in battle, Newt returns home to Jones County to safeguard his family but is soon branded an outlaw deserter. Forced to flee, he finds refuge with a group of runaway slaves hiding out in the swamps. Forging an alliance with the slaves and other farmers, Knight leads a rebellion that would forever change history. Credits: TheMovieDb. Film Cast: Newton Knight: Matthew McConaughey Rachel: Gugu Mbatha-Raw Moses Washington: Mahershala Ali Serena Knight: Keri Russell Daniel: Jacob Lofland Sumrall: Sean Bridgers Lieutenant Barbour: Brad Carter Miss Ellie: Jane McNeill Prosecuting Attorney: Gary Grubbs Jasper: Christopher Berry Amos Deason: Joe Chrest Quitman: David Jensen Injured Soldier: Kurt Krause Confederate Color Guard: Carlton Caudle Freedman 1: Martin Bats Bradford Matthew Yates: Matt Lintz Mary: Kerry Cahill Annie: Jessica Collins Confederate Soldier: Juan Gaspard Junie Lee: Liza J. Bennett Polling Station Clerk: David Maldonado Schoolgirl: Serenity Neil Chester: Lawrence Turner Mrs. Deason: Lara Grice Col. Robert Lowry: Wayne Pére Farmer 1: Jim Klock Town Folk: Emily Bossak Sergeant: P.J. Marshall Third Man: Ritchie Montgomery Stillman Coleman: Mattie Liptak Aunt Sally: Jill Jane Clements Col. McLemore: Thomas Francis Murphy Old Man: Johnny McPhail Lt. Barbour: Bill Tangradi First Man: William Mark McCullough Edward James – Cotton Field Worker: Sam Malone Boy at Alice Hotel: Kylen Davis Farmer 2: Will Beinbrink George: Troy Hogan Confederate Soldier: Cy Parks Ward: Dane Rhodes Second Woman / Yeoman Farmer: Lucy Faust Yeoman Girl: Stella Allen Older Coleman Brother: Cade Mansfield Cooksey Maroon (uncredited): Tahj Vaughans Davis Knight: Brian Lee Franklin Film Crew: Casting: Debra Zane Production Design: Philip Messina Costume Design: Louise Frogley Editor: Juliette Welfling Producer: Jon Kilik Supervising Art Director: Dan Webster Editor: Pamela Martin Director of Photography: Benoît Delhomme Producer: Scott Stuber Executive Producer: Oren Aviv Set Decoration: Larry Dias Writer: Gary Ross Executive Producer: Robert Simonds Executive Producer: Robin Bissell Art Direction: Andrew Max Cahn Sound Re-Recording Mixer: Paul Hsu Executive Producer: Wang Zhonglei Executive Producer: Stuart Ford Prosthetics: Gary Archer Foley: Marko Costanzo Makeup Department Head: Nikoletta Skarlatos Executive Producer: Wang Zhongjun Co-Producer: David Pomier First Assistant Director: Eric Heffron Assistant Costume Designer: Meagan McLaughlin Foley: Eric Milano Second Unit Director: Garrett Warren Visual Effects Editor: Gershon Hinkson Executive Producer: Michael Bassick Makeup Artist: Kris Evans Executive Producer: Bruce Nachbar “B” Camera Operator: Jerry M. Jacob Executive Producer: Matt Jackson Additional Camera: Michael Watson Executive Producer: Christopher Woodrow Hairstylist: Felicity Bowring Casting: Meagan Lewis Music Editor: John Finklea Executive Producer: Jerry Ye Set Designer: Randall D. Wilkins Still Photographer: Murray Close Sound Re-Recording Mixer: Mike Prestwood Smith First Assistant “A” Camera: Chad Rivetti Special Effects Coordinator: David K. Nami Hair Department Head: Jules Holdren Key Hair Stylist: Melizah Anguiano Wheat Set Costumer: Adriane Bennett Costume Supervisor: Carlane Passman Prosthetic Makeup Artist: Matthew O’Toole Visual Effects Producer: Lisa Beroud Key Hair Stylist: Theraesa Rivers Executive Producer: Russell Levine Additional Camera: Greg Morris Set Costumer: Tom Cummins Art Department Coordinator: Wylie Griffin Supervising Dialogue Editor: Branka Mrkic Visual Effects Supervisor: Kelly Port Second Assistant “C” Camera: Griffin McCann Set Costumer: Lisa Magee Wigmaker: Khanh Trance Art Direction: Chris Craine Gaffer: Bob Bates Original Music Composer: Nicholas Britell First Assistant “C” Camera: Wade Whitley Co-Producer: Diana Alvarez Second Second Assistant Director: Marvin Williams “A” Came...

[cuneytyardimci]

The Beatles Üyeleri Hakkında Bilmediklerimiz

Bu yazıda, The Beatles üyeleri henüz bir araya gelmeden önce, kaderin onlar için nasıl bir yol çizdiğini ve birbirini takip eden ilginç tesadüfler silsilesine dair, Sunay Akın'dan bir alıntı bulacaksınız...

THE BEATLES ÜYELERİHAKKINDA BİLMEDİKLERİMİZ John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison ve Ritchie Starkey ‘den oluşan The Beatles, müzik tarihine parmak izini kalıcı olarak bırakan ve şüphesiz döneminin ötesine geçen bir grup olarak hafızalara kazınmıştır. Hal böyleyken The Beatles üyeleri sadece müzik değil, aynı zamanda kültür, moda ve toplumsal değişimde de öncü bir rol oynadılar. İngiliz…

[bergeremporium]

Meet the Beatle

If I were a Beatle I’d probably be the bald one with the poems and the American accent who lived a lot later than the other blokes and was probably a bit less popular. If I were a Beatle I doubt I’d get as many songs per album as John or Paul but maybe I’d tie with George and maybe I could work with Ol’ Ritchie to increase his productivity. Maybe I could work out more stuff like Flying or Cry for…