First, let’s bust a big myth. The breakup wasn’t a sudden, catastrophic explosion. It was a slow, glorious, creative fire that just burned differently.
Think of it like a brilliant, chaotic family road trip. Everyone wants to drive, everyone has a different map, and someone (cough, Paul) is trying to keep the snacks organized. That’s the Beatles in 1969.
The Business of Being Beatles
Here’s the boring-but-true part: Money. Their manager, Brian Epstein, had died in 1967, leaving them without a dad to referee the squabbles. Then came Allen Klein, a shark in a suit, and Paul’s future father-in-law, Lee Eastman, who wanted to handle the papers. It was a legal tug-of-war that made writing “Hey Jude” look simple.
Suddenly, the band wasn’t just a band; it was a corporation with four squabbling shareholders. You can’t say “I wanna hold your hand” when you’re arguing about tax percentages. Joy takes a backseat to spreadsheets.
