13,000 Beatles Fans Scream Adulation (1966)

 

13,000 Beatles Fans Scream Adulation to Prophets of Din

By Thomas Willis

Chicago Tribune

August 13, 1966

    "Prepare yourselves", said the bass voice behind us, and there in the flesh were the prophets of den, something like 13,000 treble voices sliced the echoing International Amphitheater yesterday afternoon with a knifing scream, which instantly passed the aureole threshold of pain.

     Flash bulbs from 1,000 cameras stabbed the dark hall with continuous lightning. Paul, John, and George half-ran down the curtained stairs at the rear of the small stage, crowded with the giant speaker cabinets and winking electronic gear of a 1500-watt amplifying system. Ringo clambered to the drummer's throne at the rear. The Beatles had arrived.

     The infernal shriek continued practically unabated for the 27 minutes allotted to the ensemble, swirling in the ear and setting off those internal harmonic rings, which last and last. Now and then the nerves rebelled and reduced it all to a jumble of wind, letting it whistle by. The amplifiers contributed a harmony or two, which could be recognized "Yesterday,"  "Paperback Writer," "Rock and Roll Music", in a voice which could be identified with the lips of the performers on stage. 

    This was all the vast majority of participants and the tribal rite required. Tributes, cigarette butts, paper balls, popcorn bags, and possibly a jelly bean or two landed on the stage with one narrow miss on a Beatle's head; favored with a notice, young admirers in the front rows sobbed their gratitude. Farther back in the audience, the merest wave in any direction set off renewed waves of adulation. Affected girls bobbed up like popping corn, only to be motioned to their seats by one of the 200 Andy Frain ushers holding flashlights.

     The quartet, smartly dressed in green, went on with the show even when the amplifier, overloaded with screams, gave out, leaving Ringo Starr's drum solo practically unaccompanied. John Lennon flashed his cheesecake smile at a photographer and tried a Hindu neck trick or two. Paul McCartney said it was "good to be back" and "thank you" to everyone. George Harrison spent much of the time getting his guitar, at least, turned on. 

    The rest of the afternoon was given over to the Remains, who worked hard keeping things moving. The Ronettes, three girls who must sing better than their amateurish presence indicates. Bobby Hebb, a razzle dazzle imitation of Sammy Davis Jr., and the Cyrcles, a pleasant boyish quartet who are not above singing four-part harmony.

     In the audience was Seiji Ozawa, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra summer conductor at Ravinia. It is just possible his ears may stop ringing before tonight's Van Cliburn reception. 

    In this observer's opinion, the Beatles have made notable contributions to folk poetry with their gentle, psychologically valid lyrics and their adventurous use of instruments that place them in a different league from the rest of a gimmick-ridden industry. As a gesture of thanks, perhaps attendance at a concert is in order. Once, though, is enough. 

    The Frain ushers were assisted by 105 policemen under the direction of Captain Leo Powers of Area Three and 200 firemen under the direction of Division Marshal Francis Murphy. Looking over the crowd of neatly dressed, well-behaved youngsters before the concert, it was hard to see the necessity for such precautions. After the banshee yell began, we understood.

     Gross take for the two concerts was reported at $136,000. The Beatles will leave early today for Detroit. Next stop on their 18-day tour, which includes Cleveland, Washington, Philadelphia, Toronto, Boston, Memphis, Cincinnati, St. Louis, New York, Seattle, and Los Angeles, winding up in San Francisco on August 29.