David Richardson

Sometime around 1966 at the age of 7, my mother dropped my two older sisters and I at the movies. As that movie hit the screen and the first notes of the guitars pierced the air, all the girls in the theater rushed to the front, pushed up to the screen, clamored for the images they saw and swooned to the music they heard.
That film was The Beatles Help, and though I was too young to have much ... read more