The Agony and the Ecstasy
By Anthony Burton
The Daily Mail
August 24, 1966
The Beatles stepped onto the turf of Shea Stadium last night, and the world went mad. Kids in tight hip huggers, kids in miniskirts, kids in poor boy sweaters, 45,000 of them took a deep breath and started screaming and squealing and screeching and sobbing till the whole stadium seemed to rock.
It couldn't get any worse, you thought, trying to shield your eardrums, but it did. When the Beatles climbed on the platform and started to play to the packed stands, Ringo, John, Paul, and George attacked their instruments with the dedication of men earning hundreds of dollars for every note they played. But the kids screamed even louder. It seemed a pity. The kids were making too much noise to hear their idols.
Some of the kids started jumping onto the turf in an attempt to get closer to the kings of kiddydom. Cops headed them off and carried them away. More than 100 police reinforcements, together with policewomen, streamed onto the field and confronted the stands. After 30 minutes, it was all over. The Beatles raced to a station wagon and drove off into the night. From Flat Bush Avenue and Columbus Avenue, from East End Avenue and Park Avenue, the hordes of kids had poured into the stadium, paying an average of $4 for the privilege of adoring the Beatles in person. Waving above their heads were such bannered battle cries as "Ringo is sexy" and "America loves you."
It was just like their earlier visits, except that they seemed smaller, as if they had been tamed. Their eyes, sad spaniel eyes under the long fringes, were haunted now by the ghost of a hick disc jockey. The kids screamed, and the money poured in, but it could never be the same. The Beatles would never be able to forget that they had bent the knee and apologized to the hick disc jockey from a state notorious even in the South for its bigotry and racism, and then they had suffered the humiliation of having their apology patronizingly accepted.
The sad irony was that when John Lennon said the Beatles were more popular than Jesus, he was touching on a serious issue. That, of course, is fatal in the world of Good Guys and Murray the K and transistors. You can be imprudent about the Queen, but you can't get away with trying to discuss a serious subject. That's not cool, baby.
And so Lennon presented his glass jaw to people who would rather attack the innocent who raise a problem than the problem itself. It's easier. They denounced the satanic foursome and burned their records. Even then, the Beatles could have saved themselves by one of those flip remarks with the Liverpool twang around the edges. But they were older now, and corruption inevitably comes with age, and there were all those records to be sold and all that money to be collected.
Lennon became the penitent. He announced he was sorry he had ever made the remark. Few popular idols can pin down the exact moment when they reached the pinnacle and then began the long slide, the downfall. The Beatles call it into obscurity, but Lennon and the others will be able to do just that. It will take years to complete the slide, and lots more money will roll in. But when it's done, they'll look back up the slope and see that it began August 11, 1966, the day Lennon tucked the flip remark into his cheek and instead pleaded to an Alabama disc jockey that he had been misinterpreted.
Well, it was fun while it lasted. And there's always Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones. Can you imagine him apologizing? Give him time, baby. Give him time.
No comments:
Post a Comment