Ron made his living selling, trading, and displaying Beatle memorabilia. When I last saw him he was leaving for Paris to screen one of his Beatle movies. He would (no doubt) go to Paris, spend most of his time in the projection booth, and never let the print of the film out of his sight.
Ron drove a winter-wasted American car that might have once been white but was now kind of an off-grey of a completely nondescript nature. His parents’ home was in Passaic, New Jersey. The houses there were working- to middle-class, almost completely drab (but nonetheless certainly larger than their counterparts in Liverpool, England.)
With Ron’s room completely covered with Beatles, and his brother’s room completely covered with the Hollywood colorings of Trini Lopez’s publicity, this was nothing other than what The Beatles successfully exported: the story of a working-class lad in a black and gray England who had dreams of gold. As in Yellow Submarine, where the gray-drabness of the opening gives way to the color and adventure of the film, The Beatles brought sound and color into our lives. FROM AN AMERICAN STORY
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