COME ON
Introduction
Not many 5-year-olds were aware of the Beatles in early 1964. I was no exception. “The Flintstones” were the only rockers I knew. So the Beatles’ historic first appearance on “The Ed Sullivan Show” on Feb. 9, 1964, would have been something I learned about later in life — and thought, “Gee, I wish I had seen that” — if not for a moment of real, live Beatlemania that magically transpired in my family’s living room. It was a cold Sunday evening in Woodcrest, a largely Jewish, largely middle-class neighborhood in Camden County in South Jersey. (We were the rare Irish-Catholic household.) I was in my pajamas, most likely watching “Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Color” on our black-and-white TV set, when my mother received a frantic call from our family babysitter, Debbie, who lived in the house directly behind ours. Debbie pleaded with my mom to allow her and two friends to come over to watch “The Ed Sullivan Show.” (The way I remembered it, Debbie’s family’s television had suddenly gone on the blink, just as she and her girlfriends were settled in to experience the Fab Four.) As Debbie’s tone of voice made this sound like a matter of life and death, my mom immediately agreed. So there I was in my pajamas in my living room watching three girls screaming — I mean screaming — at the television! I had no clue what was going on. But I am very grateful it happened that way, because I witnessed the dawn of Beatlemania with my own 5-year-old eyes in my own living room. Forty years or so later, I attended the funeral service for Mr. McDermott, Debbie’s father. I reminded Debbie of that night long ago when her family’s TV set went on the fritz, but Debbie corrected me. The television was fine, she said, but her father — a dedicated and unapologetic sports fan — wasn’t about to change the channel in the middle of a game he was watching. If he had, I would have surely finished watching “Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Color” instead of witnessing a live broadcast of the Beatles’ first-ever performance in America. So to you, Mr. McDermott, I say: Thanks a million. OVERNIGHT, THE BEATLES WERE ON EVERYONE’S lips. Broadcasters, newspaper columnists, comedians and sometimes even clergy all chimed in. The response was unanimously condescending — that is, unless a given commentator was 24 or younger. But in those days, print and broadcast media were (surprise!) very much an older White males’ club. I recollect that in the Feb. 10, 1964, edition of The Philadelphia Bulletin — this was the day after the “Sullivan” appearance — a staff columnist ended his piece with the following (and I paraphrase): “I will stick my neck out and predict that in 10 years or so, we’ll be asking, ‘Whatever became of the Beatles?’ ” I wish I still had that clipping so I could name (shame?) the offender.
4
The album that kept us kiddies up at night.
© Capitol Records
I did, however, come across a clipping from the front page of the same edition of The Bulletin, as well as the “jump” page. In a United Press International (UPI) wire story titled “Beatles Send Teen-Agers Into Ecstasy,” it is reported: “The four are John Lennon, 23, the so-called ‘Sexy Beatle,’ George Harrison, 21, the ‘Quiet Beatle,’ Paul McCartney, 21, the ‘Bouncy Beatle,’ and Ringo Starr, 23, the ‘Beatle Beatle.’ ” (Whatever that means.) Accompanying the UPI article was a staff report titled “British Quartet A Real Menace, Barbers Assert.” The uncredited writer reported that John J. Monachelli, then president of the Pennsylvania League of Master Barbers, “wasn’t even sure the Beatles — with their collar-length hair in the back and eyebrowlength bangs — should have been let into the country without being sprayed first. ‘You know,’ he said. ‘Like they do to sheep.’ ” This Beatle-bashing from the older generation was not limited to the media. It was happening everywhere, and my neck of the woods was no exception. Local adults in Woodcrest scoffed at the Beatles. But in telling ways, the grownups would acknowledge, albeit grudgingly, the group’s appeal. Everyone admitted the Beatles were “cute.” Some admitted they were funny. Some even admitted that their songs were (gasp!) catchy.
