Geri Miller: I remember one of the dancers running into the dressing room and announcing the Beatles were coming into the Lounge to catch our show! There was complete mayhem backstage. All the girls started primping and changing into their best outfits. All I had brought with me that evening were hip-hugger dungarees, a sweater, and dirty old sneakers. I figured, the heck with it, I’ll never stand out from the other girls, so I didn’t even bother running a comb through my hair.
Sure enough, at half past twelve, the Beatles were sitting ringside, sipping Scotch and Coke and watching our revue! I flipped immediately over George, I thought he was gorgeous. After the show, all the girls (still in costume) were brought to their table and introduced. I didn’t see George and asked for him. I was disappointed to learn he had a sore throat and had to leave. Oh, well, I thought, he must be a dead-head. I probably wouldn’t have liked him anyway. While at the table I noticed Ringo staring at me, I knew one of the other girls dug him, so I decided to go back to the dressing room and change into street clothes. When I came out, dozens of girls were swarming about them. I figured I’d never stand a chance with all the competition, so I got up on stage to dance with some friends. Then the band played a real wild Monkey, and I danced as I’ve never danced before. As I spun around, I caught Ringo staring at me intently. Afterwards he invited me over to join his table, there were no chairs vacant, so I did the next best thing—I sat on his lap!
He asked me my name. I told him and then mentioned I was considered the “clown” of the girl dancers and I knew he was considered the “clown” of the Beatles, and why didn’t we try swapping jokes! He laughed; I think he thought I was crazy. He offered me a drink. I told him I didn’t drink. He offered me a cigarette. I told him I didn’t smoke. “Well, what DO you do?” he asked. Nothing I answered, I guess I’m a drip. Ringo smiled at me and said, “Geri the way you dance, you can’t be a drip!”
We talked on aimlessly about rock n roll music and the dances that were popular here. Soon his manager was motioning that it was time to go. He asked what I was doing later and could he see me. I flipped. Of course, I answered, the only thing is, I don’t get off work until 4am. I knew Ringo didn’t want to stay in the Lounge and wait for me because the place was crawling with photographers, and I knew he didn’t want to go back to his hotel with the rest of the group. “I’ve got it,” I announced, “Why don’t you wait for me at my apartment. I live right around the corner. I have a hi-fi and dozens of albums. You can listen to all of our popular recording artists until I get there.” Ringo liked the idea. I gave him the key to my apartment and directions.
There was only one more show to do, but it seemed like an eternity until I was finished working and free to leave. On the way home, I stopped off and bought eggs, milk and rolls. I felt that after waiting an hour and a half for me, the least I could do was make him breakfast. As I made my way to my house a terrible thought hit me like a flash: I didn’t give him my apartment number! Gosh. I thought to myself, here’s where I lose a date with Ringo AND my keys!
When I got to my door I heard the TV and felt relieved. I rang the bell and a shoeless Ringo answered the door. He explained he met a neighbor in the lobby and she told him which apartment I lived in. I pictured my neighbor wondering why the one and only Ringo Starr was asking for silly ol Geri Miller’s apartment! I made him breakfast and we talked and talked. “What made you ask me out?” I asked him. He told me I seemed down-to-earth and natural. I knew he dated dozens of girls all over the globe. “What country did you like the best, as far as girls?” I asked. “It’s not the country, “he told me, “all girls are different.”
By now it was close to 7a.m. I could see he was tired and knew he had important press conferences in a matter of hours. He told me he had to leave and get some sleep. He also mentioned he hoped to see me before he left New York for Miami. I walked him to the door and kissed him goodnight. “Just a minute,” I called out as he waited for the elevator. I ran into the hallway and gave him a Peppermint Lounge souvenir key chain and told him to “use it and think of me.” I watched him put his keys on the chain and slip them into his pocket. “Thank you Geri,” he whispered, “thank you.” He kissed me again and said goodnight.