拍品专文
On Thursday 11 June 1964, the Beatles flew from Hong Kong to Sydney as part of their 1964 world tour, stopping en route in Darwin to refuel. Although it was an unscheduled stop, 400 fans were already waiting for the Fab Four as they landed in Darwin at 2.35am. Harrison's message to Boyd's mother indicates that the Beatles must have made another stop in Manila in the Philippines before landing in Darwin. According to the postmark for Darwin, Harrison must have mailed the postcard during their stop in the Darwin airport terminal.
In his 1984 autobiography Fifty Years Adrift, Beatles press officer Derek Taylor remembered: None of us slept on the flight to Australia. There were reports of impossible weather on the eastern seaboard and as we flew on into the night, over the maddened sea and through the storm-crazed sky, I trusted in my purple prose and Their invincibility to get us there intact. We made a refuelling stop in Darwin, just in case we had to divert from Sydney (for the fans, God forbid such a necessity); but despite the short notice, the word was out and there was a good-sized crowd awaiting us when we landed. The Darwin welcome was, for me, compensation for the disappointment we had caused at the earlier, scheduled stops on the flight from England. It is more blessed to give than to deprive, and at Darwin The Beatles certainly gave. They were, like the rest of us, genuinely excited; this was a long, long way from home – indeed, from anywhere.
Australia! Euphony in the name; splendour and romance. What did we know of this unimaginably large island-dominion? Precious little. I have an imperfect memory of the short time we spent in the Darwin airport buildings; large windows, a balcony; darkness, cheering fans, a lot of good-natured babble into tape-recorders; a talkative John, full of fun, pushing and shoving his friends like a schoolboy in a bus queue.
In his 1984 autobiography Fifty Years Adrift, Beatles press officer Derek Taylor remembered: None of us slept on the flight to Australia. There were reports of impossible weather on the eastern seaboard and as we flew on into the night, over the maddened sea and through the storm-crazed sky, I trusted in my purple prose and Their invincibility to get us there intact. We made a refuelling stop in Darwin, just in case we had to divert from Sydney (for the fans, God forbid such a necessity); but despite the short notice, the word was out and there was a good-sized crowd awaiting us when we landed. The Darwin welcome was, for me, compensation for the disappointment we had caused at the earlier, scheduled stops on the flight from England. It is more blessed to give than to deprive, and at Darwin The Beatles certainly gave. They were, like the rest of us, genuinely excited; this was a long, long way from home – indeed, from anywhere.
Australia! Euphony in the name; splendour and romance. What did we know of this unimaginably large island-dominion? Precious little. I have an imperfect memory of the short time we spent in the Darwin airport buildings; large windows, a balcony; darkness, cheering fans, a lot of good-natured babble into tape-recorders; a talkative John, full of fun, pushing and shoving his friends like a schoolboy in a bus queue.