The Agony and the Ecstasy (New York City 1966)

 

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.

Armor-Plated Beatles Brave Shea (1966 New York City)

 

Armor Plated Beatles Brave Shea

By Edward Benes & Richard Henry

The Daily News

August 24, 1966

    Beatlemania hit New York again yesterday. It was like war games, especially the evening's climax. The Beatles invaded Shea Stadium in an armored car, and then all hullabaloo broke loose. As in almost all war games, there was lousy weather, hot and humid when it wasn't raining. Nevertheless, armies of young people surged bravely to and fro all over town, sinking their quarry, the mop-top quartet of rock and rollers. 

    Innocent citizens lost their dignity in shoving throngs, or had their eardrums dented by volleys of shrieks. Battalions of cops and teams of medics were on alert at Shea for bulging bedlam. There was flag waving by youngsters in the stadium who flaunted banners proclaiming their adoration of Ringo, or Paul, or John, or George (the beloved Mets were forgotten last night.)

     There was resort to a decoy unit and a sneak sortie to get the Beatles safely out of their midtown hotel when it came time to go to Shea. The ruse worked like this: At H hour, 5:40 p.m. two limousines pulled in front of the Hotel Warwick's main entrance on 54th Street near Sixth Avenue, and the hundreds of fans behind barricades riveted their eyes hungrily on the hotel door, but around the corner on Sixth, a motorcade of four limousines, one police prow car, and one unmarked cop car pulled up to another hotel entrance. The Beatles dashed out with their entourage and grinned to sharp-eyed fans across the street before ducking into the cars. Only two young girls managed to break free from the barricades and get close enough to snap pictures.

     A group of construction men, seated on the back of a truck, were more interested in the girls than the Beatles. Some customers inside a drugstore looked curiously out the window, and then the Beatles took off. But at the Queen's Safety District Police Station and the Old World's Fairgrounds, they shifted from their limousines to Wells Fargo red armored cars. A squad of sweating cops clung to the armor-plated vehicles like blue-clad leeches. The time was 7:30 p.m.

    Before the Beatles went on stage, four recording acts- the Ronettes, the Cyrkles [sic], the Remains, and Bobby Hebb thumped and chanted to amuse approximately 45,000 music lovers, who filled all but Shea's upper tiers. As 200 city cops and 250 private police patrolled, as three first aid stations were manned on each balcony as a doctor stood nervously at an Elmhurst City Hospital ambulance. The noise and the tension swelled, but there was no reports of injury. 

    And then.....and then ......at 9 p.m. Liverpool's contribution to modern culture emerged on stage. The Beatles themselves! GAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! The concert shrieked from 45,000 throats was deafening. 1000s of girls and boys and little kids and young mothers and fathers stood to get a look and stayed standing for an hour while the Beatles performed before taking off for Los Angeles. 

    Neither the standing nor the presence of young parents was surprising. Hundreds, including housewives escorting their children, had been standing for hours yesterday afternoon outside the Warwick. 500 stood hoping to see the Beatles. Outside Shea, 2000 hopefuls waited. 

    Two housewives from Astoria, Queens, Mrs. Betty Kristen Noble and Mrs. Elsie Robbins, showed up each with a young daughter at 10 a.m. They explained that they did not want the girls to go alone. Two other housewives from Saddle River, New Jersey, showed up with five girls. The housewives, Mrs. Ralph Berry and Mrs. Timothy Tamblin, arrived at 4 p.m. to beat the traffic. Mrs. Berry and Mrs. Tamblin both said they were not dragged there by the girls. "We love the Beatles ourselves", they said.

     The youngsters who waited outside the hotel got no glimpse of the mop tops during the day. The quartet remained in its 28th-floor suite, resting up for the big doings last night. 

Fan's Dad as the Luck

Patricia Donovan, 16, a Beatle-loving Brooklynite, probably got all upset with her dad, Howard, for not taking her to work with him last night instead of letting her go with her mother to the Beatles' concert. Donovan had bought concert tickets for his daughter and wife and himself, and gave his own ticket to his father-in-law when he suddenly was called into work. But it turned out that on the job he drove the Beatles to Shea Stadium in an armored car.

A Family Walk

 August 1976

Dogs Meet the Beatles...For Real!

 

Stop to chat

 

George tries to save the theater

 

In Malibu

 August 18, 2026 -- Ringo and Barb were seen out and about in Malibu 

Gals Dare Death to See The Beatles (1966)

 This is one of those stories that has stuck with me all of these years.  I think we can all agree that these two girls took Beatlemania too far.  Threatening to take your own life to meet the Beatles is just way too much and I am glad that they were not rewarded for this act.  I also hope they were able to get the help they must have needed and I wonder what the outcome of the "disorderly conduct" charges were.

Gals Dare Death to See The Beatles

By Joseph Cassidy

The Daily News

August 23, 1966

    Two teenage girls undergoing what a Roosevelt Hospital psychiatrist later described as an "acute situation reaction" attracted 1000s of startled sidewalk gawkers yesterday afternoon by perching on the edge of the 22nd-floor rooftop of the Americana Hotel. 

    "We must see the Beatles." The West Brighton S.I. teenagers told emergency service cops, who had been trying for 20 minutes to talk them in from the 18-inch-wide ledge where they sat with their legs dangling. 

    The girls, Carol Hopkins, 17, of 21 Beament Avenue, and Susan Richmond, 16, of 356 Carey Avenue, told their would-be rescuers that they had tried unsuccessfully to gain entrance to the Beatles' 28th-floor suite at the nearby Hotel Warwick, and wouldn't come in unless they could see them. 

    While the crowds on the corner of 53rd Street and Seventh Avenue watched the drama above, a lesser crowd of 200 teens and subteen-age girls tried to generate their own storm by pushing and screaming for their heroes behind police barricades near the Warwick. They were unaware of the activity a block away. 

    On the Americana's roof, emergency service patrolman Richard Powers was trying desperately to get the two skinny blonde girls back to safety. Powers, an 11-year veteran cop, was 39 and looked about 70 as he pleaded with the youngsters. "I have a daughter about your age," he told the girls, whose hysterical sobs were making their position on the ledge even more precarious, "and I'd cry. It would break my heart if my girl was out here like this." But his listeners only shook their heads. Powers got to his knees on the asphalt rooftop. "We'll take you to see them. Just come away from the ledge. I promise you that you'll get to talk to them," he pleaded, although he knew he lied. 

    The girls just sat on the narrow ledge and sobbed. For 20 minutes, the cops scolded, cajoled, and pleaded. Occasionally, Carol would wave a ragged envelope and cry, "I have a letter for Paul, Paul McCartney. I have to give it to him. You wouldn't understand."

     "Nobody understands what they mean to us," Susan blurted out through her tears. "We've just got to see them." 

    On the street, the crowd was getting restless. "Are they gonna jump, or are they gonna keep us here all day?" A white-line barber leaned against a light pole asked. "I'm losing tips staying out here."

     Powers was getting ready with his partner, patrolman Patrick O'Connor, to move in on the girls. Maybe by hopping the three-foot-high guardrail, they could grab the girls before they slipped off. Then a police siren screamed 22 floors below. "It's the Beatles, girls. They've got the Beatles, and they're bringing them up here to see you!" Powers cried out. 

    That did it. Susan and Carol slowly got up, 200 feet above Seventh Avenue. They began combing their hair and putting on fresh lipstick. The cops moved in swiftly, caught the two in their arms, and dragged them back to the precipice. 

    The girls were taken to the hospital where the diagnosis was made, and then to the West 54th Street station to await night court on disorderly conduct charges.

     Meanwhile, the youthful crowd near the Warwick was still screaming. One 13-year-old told a newsman that the "Beatles were really tough. I'd just die to see them up close. I'd just die!"

Flash! City Girls See the Beatles (1966 Cincinnati)

Beatles fans in Cincinnati near the stadium in 1966 

 

Flash! City Girls See The Beatles

By Larry Smith

The Herald-Times (Indiana)

August 23, 1966

"We saw the Beatles. I mean, we really saw them!" Debbie Zimmerman, a 15-year-old Bloomington High School sophomore, not only saw the Beatles, but she got into their Cincinnati hotel room and out with a piece of lettuce, with French dressing on it and some hair that "just had to be Ringo's."

     Debbie, her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Richard Zimmerman, 2212 La Jacque Lane, and two friends, Kathy Yates and Donna Glasgow, both 15 and BHS sophomores, bought tickets last May for last Saturday's Beatles show in Cincinnati. 

    The girls arrived in Cincinnati Saturday morning around 10 a.m. to await the 8 p.m. show that night. Mr. Zimmerman and the three girls set out to find the Beatles' headquarters. A Cincinnati newspaper story said the Beatles were supposed to be staying in the Vernon Manor Hotel on the sixth floor.

     Mr. Zimmerman called the hotel and asked for room accommodations for the night. It just so happened there was a suite available on the fifth floor. The hotel lobby was full of waiting teenagers since the night before, all waiting to catch a glimpse of their idols, but Debbie and her two companions, with their hotel room key in hand had proof that they belonged there, started the long walk up to the sixth floor to really see the Beatles. 

    The policemen sent them back down the stairs, but all was not lost. Debbie, Kathy, and Donna would not give up until the Beatles were on their way out of town. The outdoor performance was rained out Saturday night, and the Beatles' manager, Ken Douglas, announced that travel arrangements would be changed and that a performance was set for "right after church" Sunday. 

    Kathy said that about 4o'clock Sunday morning, a noise woke her, but she didn't find out until later that it was the Beatles themselves, still up and partying on the floor above. The girls were up by 6:30 Sunday morning, still planning on seeing the Beatles. Shortly before noon, the luggage for the Beatles' entourage was brought to the ground floor lobby, and Kathy said, "I touched it. I ran my hands over John's suitcase, and I touched George's clothes." A guard finally chased them away. 

    Then, from out of nowhere, Debbie's father appeared and told her to follow him to the sixth floor. There were only about 15 people there, mostly hotel employees. Debbie and a hotel maid were the only two females. Then it happened. The door opened, and out came John Lennon. Debbie said, "He's my favorite, and I screamed 'hi' three times, and he walked by and said 'hi' back." George and Ringo and Paul followed. 

    By this time, Debbie was in a state of shock. After the Beatles had left the hotel, Kathy and Debbie talked the maid into letting them see the hotel where the Beatles stayed. That's when they found the piece of lettuce, and Debbie found a tuft of hair that "just had to be Ringo's", and Kathy found some shed hair in a bedroom, and it "just had to be John's." There were some burnt matchsticks too. Debbie said, "The Beatles look so different in person. Their hair is so long."

McCartney Tight Lipped About His New Quartet (1971)

 McCartney Tight-Lipped About his New Quartet

By Drew Johnstone

London Express

August 20, 1971

(Campbeltown, Scotland) Beatle Paul McCartney remained tight-lipped this week about the group that he and his wife Linda plan to launch on the pop scene later this year. Paul, who is staying with his wife at their Scottish farmhouse near here, revealed this won't be a media group like the Beatles. "We're out to provide good music, and we're not caring whether the public likes it as big a way as they did the music of the Beatles."

     In a three-minute interview, while he paused with his seven-month pregnant wife as they walked to a stream in a field alongside their hillside hideaway, Paul said, "I'm still keeping the wraps on the group for the time being. I will say that the group, which I hope will make its appearance in the winter, will be out to provide nothing else but good music. It's not a planned thing. It's just a case of good musicians getting together for their own personal kicks; the Beatles are finished, and I'm not planning to revive their type of music with this group."

 McCartney refused to be drawn when asked about two American musicians, Dennis Siewell and Hugh McCracken, both from New York, who arrived in Campbelltown less than two months ago and bought a cottage near his farmhouse. Siewell, who plays the drums, and McCracken, a guitarist, arrived in the town with their wives and stayed for a month at the Argyle Arms Hotel.

     Later, they were seen on numerous occasions with McCartney and his wife. McCartney refused to reveal whether they had been rehearsing together, at either his farmhouse or the American's cottage, less than a half mile away; all McCartney would say was, "There will be four of us in the group. Linda and I will be responsible for the vocals. That's all I want to say about the group at this moment."