Tucked into a corner of this otherwise-nondescript facility is one of the most fascinating collections of pop culture ephemera in the Tampa Bay area. For many decades, local radiologist Robert Entel has been a major Beatles fan. His passion for all things Fab has taken him around the globe, looking here, there and everywhere for autographs, gold records, Beatle-played musical instruments, ‘60s merchandising (toys, dolls, pins and buttons, hair tonic and the like), posters, photos and anything else he could get his hands on.
The fruits of Dr. Entel’s obsession are on public view in Dunedin. It’s called Penny Lane: The Ultimate Beatles Collection. Admission is free — to get in, all you need is love for the Beatles.
“No ventilation,” Bissett says with a smile. “Smoke and damp, a fire hazard? Yeah, big time. Who cared in those days? You’d go home and your clothes would smell of damp.”
How’s this for six degrees of separation? In grammar school, Bissett’s swim coach was an older boy named Alan Caldwell. He would go on to change his name to Rory Storm, and Ringo Starr would be the long-term drummer in his band, the Hurricanes.
When Bissett was 14 and 15, one of his school chums was Rory Best, whose brother Pete preceded Ringo as the Beatles’ drummer. The Best brothers’ mum ran a coffee club called the Casbah, where Pete Best, John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and bass player Stuart Sutcliffe rehearsed and performed before they got work at the larger and more prestigious Cavern.
As far as the top Liverpool groups, Colin Bissett preferred a hard-charging trio called the Big Three. But the magnetism and fire of the fledgling Beatles was hard to ignore. Their shows, he recalls, were “raw, rough and basic, with what we would describe as terrible sound. But you were just there to experience them. You loved them and you didn’t mind the fact that it was smoky and smelly.
“But it was impossible to dance because they had rows of chairs, with little areas at the back and on the sides to dance. You couldn’t dance as in jiving, so they developed a thing called the Cavern Stomp. Basically, you stood there and flicked one leg and the other back and forth. No way you could start swinging people around or jiving, so you just stood there.”
Those were the days, my friend. Bissett came to the United States three decades ago, managing theaters in several states before landing in Dunedin, where his old pal Dr. Entel had also settled.
Bissett’s wife, George Ann, is President and CEO of the Dunedin Fine Art Center.
Since Penny Lane’s grand opening this past April, people have been streaming in. They come to ogle legendary artifacts like the one-inch squares of slept-on “Beatle bedsheets,” cut from their hotel linens and sold — with certificates of authenticity — to fans in that frantic era of Beatlemania. They come to see the actual long johns worn by John Lennon during a wintery visit to Copenhagan in 1969, and a Ringo sarape from the ‘70s that Entel purchased from the ex-Beatle’s spurned ex-girlfriend.
“And everyone who comes in here has a Beatles story,” Bissett says. “Oh, I used to have that. I wish I’d kept it. Or ‘I’ve got the White Album. How much is it worth?’”
As with all collectors, Dr. Entel is never quite “done.” Arriving soon is his latest acquisition — one of John Lennon’s ultra-suave ‘60s jackets. Bissett’s already got the Lennon-sized mannequin waiting in the back room.
This article appears in Jun 1-8, 2017.